


The Bitter Pill I Swallow

by flinchflower, knittycat99, nubianamy



Series: The Donutverse [24]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Caning, Celine Dion Songs in French, Cheerleaders, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Dom/sub, Episode: s01e21 Funk, Griffin and Sabine, HIV/AIDS, M/M, Multi, Non-Sexual Slavery, Parent-Child Relationship, Polyamory, School Dances, Secret Relationship, Siblings, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:40:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower, https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittycat99/pseuds/knittycat99, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Kurt is wrapped up in preparing for cheerleading Nationals, Puck commits a minor felony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published as chapters 40-42 of The Fingers of Your Fire. 
> 
> Set just before, during and after episode 1.21 Funk. This story follows Shadowing My Dreams and parallels There's an Awful Lot of Breathing Room.
> 
> You can listen to the 8track playlist for Fingers of Your Fire [here](http://8tracks.com/nubianamy/the-fingers-of-your-fire) (part of the enormous FoYF one is still [on YouTube here](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLc72s_nGT2yT62f9-u6XxCAAE_VjrOVen), although people keep deleting the videos I link to!). I will also include links to all songs throughout the story, for reference.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Jesse returns to Carmel, Carl leaves him with the truth about Rachel, and some advice. Kurt goes with Toby to the AIDS Walk in Columbus and tells a secret, and they meet someone unexpected. Rachel comes to Finn after hearing Shelby's tape. Puck calls Shelby when he realizes what's going on with Rachel, and talks to Burt and Carole about cake. Kurt talks about his funk with Adam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1x21 and 1x20 have been switched back to the order in which they were intended to be shown, so Theatricality comes after Funk. 
> 
> This episode, like its namesake, contains rather a lot of angst. I'm not going to apologize for it, but most of it will be resolved by the end. Warning in this chapter for D/s (not even sure if I should bother to warn for that anymore, honestly), consensual slavery, and discussion of non-canon original character death. Thanks to knittycat99 for writing part of the scene with Toby and Kurt, over two years ago. It's been waiting for us to use since then. 
> 
> I feel so lucky to have all of you participating in the creation of this crazy 'verse.

Carl found Jesse packing the contents of his dresser into his wheeled suitcase. He had to smile. Jesse didn't even try to disguise what he was doing.  _So much like his father._

"You're leaving?"

"I'm going back to Carmel," Jesse said. He slid the second drawer closed and went to the closet. "Tomorrow's my last day here, and it's going to be a goodbye message."

"For Rachel?"

"For Rachel, for Glee. For all of them." He looked up at Carl, his face resolute. "But first, I have to go to Rachel's one more time."

Carl nodded. "All right. What are you going to do to her?"

"I'm just going to make her listen."

"To what?"

"To her mother." Jesse pulled a cassette out of the pocket of his shirt and held it out in his palm, like it was Yorick's skull. "I have Shelby's voice, talking, on this tape. She just wants her to listen to it."

"And then what will happen?" he had to ask.

"Shelby thinks she won't be able to rest until she figures out who she is."

Carl shook his head. "No. Rachel won't go for that. It's going to have to be singing. She needs to know her mother is better than ordinary."

Jesse looked at him keenly. "How do you —?"

"You know, she could never find her father this way," he went on. Jesse slowly set down the sport jacket he was holding.

"She already knows who her fathers are."

"She  _thinks_  she knows. She believes the stories she's been told about how her fathers wanted her so much that they hired somebody to be their surrogate. But the truth was much messier and less romantic than that."

Jesse came closer, still watching his face. "Isn't the truth always?" He indicated Carl with his chin. "So what really happened?"

"What happens all the time. The condom broke. She got pregnant, I was given no choice in the matter."

"You're Rachel's father," Jesse breathed.

Carl nodded. "Shelby's never going to let anyone be in control of her. She never has, she never will. But I saw what happened with your dad when you was born."

Jesse's packing was clearly forgotten. "What happened?"

"You ended up in New York, with Shelby's sister Rachel and her husband Nathan. It took us years to reconnect with you, and then only when  _she_  was ready to let us. I wasn't going to let that happen with you. Leroy and Hiram were my friends, they wanted a baby, and I wanted to be close to her. So I convinced Shelby it would be a good idea." He knew his smile wasn't a pleasant one. "She doesn't always know best. The only thing she got out of that deal was to name Rachel after her sister."

"They've always been good to me," Jesse protested. "They may not be my parents, but they raised me."

"I'm not going to judge Rachel and Nathan's parenting choices. But your dad loves you, desperately, and he always has. He just can't stand up to Shelby, not for anything. It wasn't like that with Shelby and me. I wasn't going to lose Rachel the way Davis lost you."

Jesse nodded slowly. "I honestly don't know what Shelby's trying to get out of this situation. I know she's using me, but… it doesn't make any sense. She could have just walked up to Rachel and said  _Hi, I'm Shelby Corcoran, I'm your mom."_

"She signed a contract. We both did. Leroy and Hiram are her legal adoptive parents. I've watched from a distance. It's been a long wait, but I've respected that. Shelby's trying to game the system because she can't forgive herself for what she did. She needs Rachel to forgive her before she can move on."

"Move on to what?" Jesse asked impatiently. Carl shook his head, smiling.

"Shelby wants to catch Rachel's attention? Have her sing that song from Les Mis, the one about the mother losing her daughter. I've been listening to the soundtrack all week, preparing for my audition. It'd be right on target."

"That makes complete sense, knowing Rachel." His eyes were cloudy. "And I do know her by now. I know what she wants, what she needs. How she loves."

"Yeah." Carl stifled his sigh. "I've been watching you do that, getting to know her while you've been here. I'll admit I've been pretty jealous."

"Yeah, well, consider now I've got to end it." Jesse's face went abruptly hard. "I'm going to do something dramatic, something she'll never forgive me for. Something that will break her heart. She won't see me again for a while, and by that time… she'll have moved on to someone else." He shook his head briskly. "I can't let her keep pretending this is real." He held out a hand. "It was good to see you, Uncle Carl."

Carl shook it. "I'm sorry you got caught up in this, Jesse. It wasn't fair to you."

"Just another acting exercise." His eyes were clear now. "This time next month, I'll be in California. You should come visit some time."

Carl went back to his own room and closed the door. He thought he might pick up his guitar and work on the changes for the song he and Blaine were learning, but he couldn't manage it. He just sat in the chair by the sliding glass doors and looked out onto the sloping backyard. The six remaining hickory trees were doing nicely since he'd had the largest one cut down. After making Finn's box, the set of plugs and the paddle, he still had plenty of wood left over for more tools. The tree had been a worthy sacrifice, a sensible one.

He was still looking out the window when Angela came in. She set a glass of iced tea on the table beside him, and placed a handkerchief on his knee. He wiped his eyes and blew his nose. After a moment, she knelt, using the formal pose reserved for private settings.

"Do you require anything, sir?" she asked.

"No," he said, his voice rough.

"Do you want me to get anyone for you?"

He closed his eyes. "No."

They sat in silence until the sun sank below the canopy of trees to the west. He did not dismiss her, even though he knew it was past time for her to begin dinner, and she did not suggest it. Finally he stirred.

"Do you regret not trying again to have children, Angela?" he asked.

"Sometimes." She kept her eyes on her hands. "It would have been a different life than the one I chose."

He walked over beside her and bent, pressing his lips to her hair. "You're a good girl."

"Thank you, sir." She took the hand he offered her. He waited until she was definitely on her feet and stable before letting go. "With your permission, I'll go begin dinner."

* * *

"Remind me why I let you talk me into this?" Kurt uncurled himself from the passenger seat of Toby's car, tugged the hood of his raincoat over his head, and sighed wearily. "I haven't done anything this week but rehearse for cheer Nationals. I'm barely keeping up on my homework, and meanwhile,  _my_ Glee club is getting ready to go up against  _your_  Vocal Adrenaline at Regionals."

"Trust me, I get it. But we're not thinkin' about any of that today. Just because you haven't been touched by AIDS doesn't mean it's not important." Toby took a last swig of his coffee and shut and locked the car. "I do this every year, to remember the people I've lost. A whole generation, darlin', practically gone. It matters. You gonna be warm enough? I have a sweatshirt in the back."

Kurt tugged at the collar of his sweater. "Wool. I'm good."

Toby laughed. "I'm not sure which I'd rather, the rain and cold here, or trying to do this walk in Denver in August. Talk about  _hot_. And I'm not talkin' about all the men in bike shorts, either!" That drew a giggle and an eyeroll from Kurt.

"You're terrible."

Toby slung an arm around his shoulder. "I am, and you know you love me anyway."

He steered them through the parking lot to the edge of the park to the registration table, infinitely glad to have Kurt for company. Toby really did like the boy, felt a deep kinship for him. And he'd seemed to be struggling since winter, so Toby had figured the distraction would be good for him, too.

"You do this every year?" Kurt asked as they joined the end of a snaking line.

"Yup. Since I was eighteen. I lost someone real important to me. This is my way to remember him."

Kurt nodded solemnly, and just kept looking around, taking in the diversity of the crowd around them.

Toby leaned in close, whispered in his ear. "Not all gay folks, either. AIDS don't discriminate, darlin', and you'll do well to remember it."

"What was your friend's name? The one who . . ."

"His name was Gregg. He was my mentor at the shelter in Lexington, the one who helped me get my shit together and get into college." He shrugged. "Man was more my family than my own kin, really."

"I'm sorry," Kurt said, softly, and he squeezed Toby's hand gently.

"It's been a long time, it's just . . . he was the first person I ever lost. I mean, my family, they just let me go."

"But it's different, when someone is taken from you."

God, sometimes Kurt absolutely floored him. "Yes, it is." They shuffled forward, and Toby noticed that Kurt was fiddling with something in his raincoat pocket. "What'cha got there?"

"My sponsor form. The whole family donated, and some of the kids from Glee." But Kurt's eyes kept shifting, and Toby felt like there was something else there, something Kurt couldn't or wouldn't talk about unless he pushed just a little.

"Anyone else? Your man in LA, maybe? What's his name? Max?"

Kurt shook his head. "That's not his name. It's just the name Noah invented for him. And it feels so  _wrong_  to use it."

"I ain't gonna ask you to betray confidences, sugar. But I also ain't gonna say anything. To anybody."

Toby wanted to ask more, but the line suddenly opened up in front of three long tables, staffed by volunteers, taking registration forms and handing out t-shirts.

"C'mon, let's do this, and then you can tell me all about it while we walk, okay?" He tugged on Kurt's hand, and led him over to an empty spot at the table.

While Kurt slid his form and donation envelope across the table to the woman in front of him, he tuned out their small talk, focused instead on the man handling his own form and money, who was moving with brusque efficiency. "Size?" asked the man, digging in the boxes of t-shirts.

"Medium," he said with a smile, taking the t-shirt with a gentle  _thanks, darlin'_  before sliding out of the way closer to Kurt. "You almost set here?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, taking his own t-shirt and nodding at the woman. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sugar," she said with a drawl, and something in her voice made Toby stop and turn.

"Toby, c'mon," Kurt said impatiently. "There are people waiting."

Toby blinked, because her eyes were the same. Her eyes were  _his_  eyes,  _Luke's_  eyes, her voice his voice. But she didn't fit what he'd always imagined Grace and Natalie would look like as grown women. She looked more closely at him, then took a step back.

"Tobias . . ." the woman sighed. "Fancy seeing you here... although I guess I always knew about you."

Toby looked again, kept  _staring_  until it made sense. "I'm sorry," he said, leaning against the table. "I don't know your name, now, because you're clearly not Luke anymore."

She laughed, warm and rich. "Naw, I ain't been Luke for a long time. Maybe never. But that's neither here nor there. I'm LeeAnne, darlin'."

Toby nodded. "Okay."

"You don't seem surprised."

Toby shrugged. "I guess I always figured you were just as queer as I was, only so closeted you couldn't see it. This actually makes a lot more sense." He turned to Kurt, who was watching them in confusion, and ushered him forward. "Kurt, I want you to meet my… my sister. LeeAnne."

Kurt's eyes grew wide. "Oh — your sister?"

"That's not the name I used when Toby was a boy, but it's my name now. Got it on my driver's license and everything." She tilted her head at Kurt. "Toby, don't tell me this is your boy."

"No," he laughed. "No kids for me, not yet. I'm a teacher. Kurt's a student at my fiancé's school."

Kurt spluttered and grasped Toby's arm. "You and Mr. Schue are getting  _married?"_

"Oops. I think that might have been a secret." Toby shrugged, and LeeAnne let out a laugh that was so familiar that it almost hurt to hear it. He just smiled at her, seeing all the parts of her that had been changed by age and experience and hormones. LeeAnne couldn't seem to look away from him either.

"Tobias, you ain't changed a bit," she said, reaching out a hand to him. "I'm thinkin' the two of you are here to walk. I'll be working the table, but afterwards, let's the three of us find something to eat, get caught up?"

"Perfect," Toby agreed. "I know a great coffeehouse, right downtown."

The walk was more like a march, by turns solemn, celebratory and raucous, but Toby made sure to keep Kurt as far removed from the din and festivities as he could, holding tight to his hand. "Well, that was amazing."

"I know!" Kurt agreed. "Your sister — well, brother-now-sister? She looks so much like you."

"All of us kids looked alike. Luke was always the peacemaker, middle child. I wonder how he made it out of that house alive. He was seventeen when I left." He squeezed Kurt's hand. "But we'll find all that out later. Now, come on, darlin.' Tell me more about your problems. You were talkin' about Max's donation — but that's not his name."

Kurt glanced over his shoulder, like someone might be listening to them as they spoke.

"Adam," he said, voice a hushed whisper. "His name is… Adam. And yes, he sent me a very generous donation, but…"

"What's the problem, then?"

"He sent cash, and my dad had to write the check because we can't- he  _can't-_ "

Toby could hear something frantic in Kurt's voice, fear and panic, and underneath it all sadness and longing. "Hey, hey. Goodness, darlin', it can't be that bad."

"He's  _famous_ , Toby," Kurt hissed so low that Toby had to think twice to make sure he'd heard right. "He's on the stage and Leno and Ellen and Nightline, and I'm… I'm just me, and I'm sixteen, and I'm stuck in  _Ohio_. And I can't stop worrying about what would happen to his career if it got out that he — that we — um. Do what we do."

"Would I know who he is, if you told me?" Toby had some ideas, but he also wasn't going to ask Kurt to betray someone he clearly cared deeply for. "I won't ask you to tell me, but you can if you want. I'm good at keepin' secrets."

"I c-can't," Kurt sighed, shakily. "But I can tell you that you'd know him if you watched Idol."

"Ah." There was only one person it could be, given the name and the show. Toby pulled Kurt in a one-armed hug as they walked. "He's very talented, sugar, and handsome. I trust that he's good to you, yeah?"

"Oh, yeah. To both of us, me and Noah. I just - I hate that we all have to hide it, and you know I worry about everything." He closed his eyes briefly. "And I miss him, all the time."

"I hope he knows how lucky he is, to have you. Because you are amazing, and so special, and I know you don't always see that. But  _I_  do, and your family does. And if this man is worth anything, he'll see it, too." He held tight to Kurt, hoping he'd been able to express how much Kurt mattered, just as he was.

"I- I think he does," Kurt sighed. "Even though he's so busy. I feel bad for wanting so much, when I already  _have_  so much. I mean, who gets this? Now he's getting ready to go on tour, and I don't know when we'll get to see him again. He came to see us for Valentine's Day."

"I bet that was nice," Toby said encouragingly.

He smiled through his tears. "It was amazing. Having him there with my whole family… and, honestly, I don't think he wanted to go home. He seemed really happy."

"Well, I always knew you were destined for greatness, darlin'. You won't stick around here once you graduate. Bein' with your man, that'd just be a quick-step forward."

Kurt looked out over the group of walkers ahead of them, holding signs and waving at passers-by and spectators. "I can't imagine that right now. It feels like that's forever in the future. Right now, I'm trying to manage school and Cheerios and  _Noah,_  and hoping Finn actually moves back in, and —" He shook his head. "Coach Sylvester talks about keeping our heads in the game, not getting distracted by what's around us? But I can't help but think  _everything_  is important right now. The game is the whole thing, all of it."

"It's no different from choreography," Toby agreed. "Life is kind of a mess, but you and me, we're in charge. We're puttin' it all together for people who can't see the whole thing, making it make sense."

Kurt blinked, nodding. "You really think I can do that?"

"You're  _doing_  it," Toby said, laughing. "Gracious light, Kurt. This? This ain't nothin'. You can do  _so much more_  than this. Just keep your head up and your eye on the focal point, and listen for your cue."

* * *

Finn felt more than a little self-conscious recording himself reading his Spanish vocabulary, but he knew if he didn't do it before Wednesday, Carl was going to ask him why he hadn't. Carl's own accent wasn't perfect, but he spoke good enough Spanish to make Finn feel inadequate.

There was another reason, too, one he wasn't sure how to bring up with Carl.  _He wants to help me study, in the car,_  he thought.  _And he originally gave our Wednesdays up, so I could be with Blaine. It makes sense that he'd drive down to Westerville with me, and we'll use part of that time for study and part of it for rehearsal._

Only he didn't want to use Wednesdays for that. Saturdays, maybe, but not Wednesdays. He could feel his hackles raising, just thinking about it. That was  _their_  time. Blaine had never seemed unhappy to have Finn there with him while he studied or rehearsed with the Warblers or boxed a few rounds at the rec center. Finn didn't need to be talking to him while he was there, or even interacting with him at all. It was just… personal.

He knew how selfish that was, selfish and irresponsible, to want to keep Blaine all for himself. He told himself it wouldn't last forever, that this feeling of jealousy for anyone who wanted to take Blaine away from him, wasn't any different from the way he'd felt when Puck met Adam, and that had turned out okay.

Only it  _was_  different. Blaine really didn't have anybody else. As inconvenient and crazy as it was to be providing that to someone who lived an hour and a half away, Blaine  _needed_  Finn. Finn knew what that felt like, to need somebody like that. Imagining Blaine at Dalton, dealing with that alone, was almost more than he could bear.

He pushed away from the table and sighed, feeling restless, when he heard the doorbell ring. His mom was halfway to her feet before she remembered, and sat back down, not watching Puck coming out of the kitchen to answer it, drying his hands. Puck had taken on more household duties than Finn had expected him to, but he didn't feel like he was in a position to tell him he couldn't.

"Finn," Puck said, suddenly. The way he sounded made Finn push out his chair and come to the front hallway at once.

Puck had opened the door, and Rachel was standing there on the porch in the rain, crying. Finn pushed past him, opening the screen door and bringing her inside.

"I'm sorry," she said through her tears, "I shouldn't be here, I don't even know if I'm welcome, I just — I had to tell somebody, and —" She looked up at him, pleading. "I didn't know where else to go."

"Hey, no, no, you're fine. You're welcome." He glanced into the family room where Burt and his mom were sitting, looking concerned, and steered her the other direction, toward the basement. "Puck, some tissues?"

"On it," he said, disappearing into the bathroom and returning immediately with the box. He followed them downstairs and waited while Finn sat with Rachel on the long end the green couch.

"But this isn't even your house," she said, sniffling. "It's Kurt's house, and — and he hates me."

"He doesn't hate you, Rach." Finn let her stay close, taking tissues from Puck and handing them to her, until finally he took the whole box and set it down on the coffee table in front of her. "He's in Columbus with Toby for the AIDS walk. And it's going to be my house, too, so that means I get to say you can come over, and I am. Saying it." He glanced up at Puck, who was hanging back behind the couch, waiting for Finn to tell him what to do. "You, uh, want us to be alone?"

"Oh…" She seemed to notice Noah for the first time. "No, no, it's fine. I mean, if you want to stay. It's a big couch."

Puck sat down across from them, on the short end of the couch, and did his best Sarah impression, listening without saying anything. It made Finn feel better to have him there.

"So what's going on? Did you and Jesse…?"

"No. It's… my mother." She stared at her hands, holding the wad of tissue, and took a shaky breath. "We were going through a box of my things, memorabilia, and we found this tape. I didn't want to play it, but Jesse said I should, that it was what she wanted for me. And it was — she was on the tape, and she was  _singing,_  and — Finn, she sang that song for me, all those years ago. Before she even knew I would be a singer, she did that for me. I  _knew_  she had to be a singer."

Finn exchanged an uneasy glance with Puck. "Was she any good?"

"Of course she was," said Rachel. "She was amazing. It was Fantine, singing 'I Dreamed A Dream,' from Les Mis. I didn't recognize her voice, but she was clearly professionally trained."

"Wow, that's amazing." Finn paused, because Puck's face had gone white. "Puck?"

"Sorry," he muttered, standing and heading for Kurt's room, "I have to make a phone call."

Rachel looked over her shoulder at Puck as he disappeared inside, closing the door. "That's not his room."

"What?" Finn was confused, his attention split between the two of them. "No, it's Kurt's. Puck's upstairs. I mean, we sometimes… you know. Share that room with him."

She was watching him with fascinated disbelief. "Your mother lets you do that? Kurt's  _father?"_

"Well, it's a small house," he said uncertainly. "But yeah. They pretty much know everything we do."

"Isn't that a little weird?" She made a face. Even though Finn had felt exactly that on occasion, he felt obligated to defend what they were doing.

"We're all getting used to it. It's better than trying to sneak around. Like, having to lie at school is pretty stressful, so coming home and knowing I don't have to be fake, that's a relief."

"Why do you feel like you have to lie? You saw how people in Glee managed when Puck and Kurt came out."

He shook his head. "Not until everything's for sure with Sarah and Puck having a place to be. I'm not going to get in the way of their adoption. Sarah needs to be with her brother. That's why he's moving back in. Well, one of the reasons."

Rachel's tears had dried up, and she was looking at him with such adoration that he blushed.

"What?"

"It's one of the things I've always admired about you, Finn. The way you put everyone else first. It's so… noble."

"I'm not really like that," he said. "I'm pretty selfish, really. I get so much."

"But you  _should,"_  she said emphatically. "You should get what you want, or at least a chance at it. Everyone gets to follow their dream."

He smiled. "My dreams used to be pretty small and uncomplicated, but… things changed. Now, I think my dreams might be a little unreasonable. I don't really get to have everything I want."

She shook her head. "I think you do. You might have to prioritize a little, but you never know what might happen if you try for everything. You might be surprised."

She had settled against him, resting her head against his chest, the way Kurt did. It felt easy, and when he rested his cheek on top of her head, she sighed.

"Are you sure this is okay?" she asked softly. "I don't mean with you, but… with everyone else?"

He thought about the way Carl had encouraged him to follow his desires, not worrying about labels, and about the way his mom had explained how his love might not be finite, but his resources and energy definitely were.

"Yeah," he decided. "I think they want me to have what I want, even if it's complicated."

She put a hand on his chest. "What  _do_  you want?"

"This is nice," he said. He covered her hand with his. "You can just stay here, as long as you need, okay?"

"Thanks," she whispered.

* * *

Puck dialed Shelby with shaking fingers. He wasn't sure what he was going to do if she didn't pick up, but luckily, he didn't have to find out.

 _"Hang on while I switch to handsfree,"_  she said. He could hear a whirring in the background.  _"This cake batter is kicking my butt."_

"I'm not calling to talk to you about a fucking  _cake,_ " he hissed. She paused.

 _"Okay,"_  she said carefully.  _"What —"_

"Your kid," Puck interrupted. "You had two kids. You had Jesse with Davis, and then you had another kid after that."

_"Noah. I don't think we —"_

"But you and Carl and Davis were in a triad. When they got married, you were there. James said you sang at their wedding." He paced back and forth across Kurt's room. "You and Carl had a kid, and you gave it up. Again."

The mixer had gone quiet. He heard Shelby take a breath.  _"I can't talk about this, Noah."_

"Fuck that! We talk about  _everything._  My dad, my boyfriends. You know what Carl does, and what I do. You cut my fucking  _hair._  You  _tell_  me things."

 _"I can't tell you this,"_  she said, her voice anguished.  _"I promised I wouldn't."_

"But you don't get it, Shelby. Because right now, your fucking  _daughter_  is sitting out there on my boyfriend's couch, and my other boyfriend's right there next to her, and —" He laughed, feeling the edge of hysteria in his voice. "She's talking about this tape she found. I think you know what tape I'm talking about."

 _"She listened to it?"_  Her question was quick and desperate.  _"Did — is she okay?"_

"I have no idea!" He stopped in the center of the room, swaying as the dizziness took over now that the adrenaline had begun to ebb. "Is this why you made friends with me? So you could spy on her?"

 _"No!_ " she cried. _"I didn't. I didn't plan to make friends with you, Noah. I didn't plan on you at all."_

"But you  _had_  a plan. You sent Jesse out here for this, didn't you? You're such a fucking hypocrite."

 _"What, because I'm still trying to fix the mistakes I made when I was twenty-one?"_  He could hear she was crying.  _"I never said I was perfect. You don't get to judge me for trying."_

"Not for that." He ran his hand over his smooth head. "I told you, you get all the chances you want to fix things with your kid. I'm talking about treating  _Jesse_  this way. Trust me, I'm the farthest thing from his biggest fan, but that was not cool, making him do this for you. He didn't even know the truth until Carl —"

Puck stopped, stifling a curse. Shelby was still sniffling.

"I didn't mean to tell you that," he said.

_"Yeah. It's okay. I know Carl told him about me, and probably about himself as well. It's fine. Jesse's an adult; he's going to find out everything eventually."_

"Yeah, but that's not how you do it with your own  _kid._  You tell him, face to face."

_"Oh, and you know this because that's the kind of model you had from your dad? Parents don't always live up to their own expectations, Noah. Maybe I wish I could be that kind of parent, but we started lying to Jesse from day one, and… I don't know, maybe it's hard to stop."_

He sat on the floor, leaning his head back against Kurt's pillow-stacked bed. "Look, I get why you didn't tell me about Rachel. I knew there were things you couldn't talk about, from the beginning. I have those things too. But I — I don't like it. For whatever reason, it sucks. I don't want to keep things from you."

_"Agreed."_

"What about Jesse? Are you going to apologize to him?"

_"Noah…"_

"Come on, Shelby, I thought you were better than that."

 _"Well, I'll tell you what, Noah, I'm not,"_ she snapped.  _"You'd better give up believing I'm anything other than a flawed human being. You said the first time you met me, you thought I was a manipulative bitch. Guess what? You were right! I am. I know what I want and I'll do anything to get it."_

"I didn't call you a bitch," he said. "Manipulative, yeah."

_"You'll call me that eventually, trust me."_

He shook his head, smiling. "Yeah. I do, actually."

_"Do what?"_

"Trust you."

That prompted a pause. Puck heard her blowing her nose.  _"Can you trust me that I'm listening to you at the same time I'm finishing this cake? I really have to get this done, and my hand mixer stinks."_

"Go ahead, multitask away. Kurt's dad got me a KitchenAid for Christmanukkah last year. It would kick your mixer's ass." He looked at the closed door. "So… Rachel, huh."

She sighed.  _"Yeah."_

"Would it freak you out to know I dated her earlier this year?"

 _"Jesus. Yes, it would, and never tell me that again."_  The mixer switched back on.

"You don't care she's probably making out with my boyfriend right now?"

He heard Shelby's snort over the muted whir.  _"Seriously, I think that beats making out with her own brother. And I told you, I'm really not looking to be her mom."_

"I think she might be looking for you to be hers. She was making a big deal about that tape."

_"I think we're jumping ahead here, Noah. She doesn't even know who I am."_

Puck got to his feet. "Yeah, but I think I can do something to help that along. And I will — if you talk to Jesse."

There was another, longer pause.  _"Why are you so invested in my relationship with Jesse?"_  she asked.  _"You admitted to hating his guts."_

Puck wasn't sure he could offer a good reason, or at least not one that would make any sense to Shelby. "How about because I'm talking to my dad, and it sucks, and I don't want to be the only one dealing with that? You get to share in my pain."

That made her laugh.  _"I can accept that. All right. I'll talk to him. Can I finish my cake now?"_

"Yeah, I think I'm done yelling for now. What's it for?"

_"It's for one of two reasons. I'm not sure yet, but I'm really hoping it'll be a congratulations-you're-not-sick cake. He'll find out this week. I think it's best to be prepared either way, because… well, cake."_

He grinned, his hand on the door knob. "Good point. All right. I'm going to go out there and interrupt whatever they're doing. Oh, and by the way, my KitchenAid's not the only thing that's going to kick your ass. We're going to win at Regionals."

 _"That's the spirit, Noah,"_  she said in a fake sugary-sweet voice.  _"You just keep believing in yourself."_

He was still grinning when he opened the door. Finn and Rachel didn't appear to be doing anything other than talking, but she leapt two feet away from him as soon as Puck emerged anyway.

"Don't get up," he called as he headed for the staircase, taking it two steps at a time.

Burt and Carole were also talking, although the tone of their conversation was significantly less intimate than Finn and Rachel's had been. Puck heard the phrase, "If she understood the ramifications of —" before Burt cut himself off. They both looked up expectantly at his appearance.

"I still have some dishes to wash," he said, gesturing at the kitchen. "And the marinade for tomorrow night. And, uh. Homework, I guess."

Carole nodded. "All right."

This seemed to be their standard answer now when Puck told them about the status of his duties. For the first week or so, Burt had lodged a protest every time Puck brought it up. Burt had hemmed and hawed, saying stuff like  _you really don't have to get permission from me_  and  _look, I feel uncomfortable about this_ for a whole week before Kurt caught his dad doing it. Puck wasn't sure what Kurt said to his dad, but he must have told him  _something,_  because after that, Burt just nodded and said  _All right._ That was better. Carole, who'd mostly been smiling and saying nice things about how sweet Puck was for wanting to help, switched over to the  _all right_ , too. It felt like a little bit of a cop-out, like  _all right_  was code for  _this is too much for me to deal with and I'm not going to take responsibility for it,_  but if that was where they were, what could he do about it?

"I just wanted to, um." He dragged over the bench and sat down across from Carole. "Can I say something?"

"Of course." She looked concerned. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I mean, it's complicated as shi- it's complicated, but… yeah. It's fine. I was just talking to Shelby, and she had this thing with her kid, and I told her that she should, um… I said she should say she should talk to him about this thing. This hard thing. Because when you're a parent, you talk to your kids. You don't leave stuff unsaid."

Carole's face had smoothed out. She reached over and took Puck's hand. "That's a good idea."

"Yeah, but I couldn't tell her  _why_  I thought she should. Like, I wasn't sure why. Until she mentioned the cake."

"The cake?" Burt repeated.

"She was making a cake. It was for Toby, I think. She made it for him. And it made me think how, my ma, she always made me a cake on my birthday? Even though she didn't really cook, or bake anything else, she made us birthday cakes, all of us." He rubbed his forehead. "Last summer, when I turned sixteen, we were in Santa Fe for this prenatal nursing conference. We were staying in a condo that didn't have an oven. I don't know, I guess they figured people on vacation didn't need to bake. But she got a microwave cake mix, and made a cake for me in a glass pan."

Carole was smiling. "How was it?"

"It sucked. You can't make a cake in a fucking microwave." He shook his head. "And I could have made it better, but that didn't matter. She was doing it for me. I think she wanted to do it because that's what moms do."

"That was thoughtful of her," she said.

"She wasn't awful all the time. But my point is, I had a lot of stuff I could have said to her. Like  _thanks for the sixteen cakes._  But I didn't do it, and now I'm not gonna be able to. So you're kind of like parents, at least the ones I have left, so I'd better say the stuff to you while I have a chance." He took another breath. "You guys… you do a hundred things like the cake, every day. For me, for Sarah, for Finn and Kurt. Even for Adam and Carl and everybody else. And I just figured out: you do those things because you have this idea that's what parents do. And I…" He paused and waited for his voice to come back. "I wanted to thank you for that. I worry that I don't always know what parents are supposed to do, but now… I think I have a better idea than I would have a year ago."

Carole came over and gave him a fierce, tight hug, and he let her. Burt just sat on the couch and smiled at him, his eyes a little wet.

"I like the way you look at things, Puck," he said gruffly. He turned toward the hallway and raised his voice a little. "You think so too?"

Puck suddenly realized Finn was standing right there against the wall. He felt his cheeks burn. The impulse to glare at him was strong, but he remembered Finn's arms around him in the kitchen earlier that week, and the words  _you're always my good boy,_  and he breathed through it until the impulse went away.

He followed Finn back into the hall, out of sight of Burt and Carole, and opened his mouth to say something, but Finn pulled him away from the front window and kissed him, which was better than talking anyway.

"You were there the whole time?" Puck asked, when Finn let him go.

"Just a few minutes," Finn said. "Rachel took off. On the phone, you were yelling at Shelby about a cake?"

"No, it was — I was yelling at her because she kept stuff from Jesse. Whatever, I think she's going to fix it. Or maybe not. I guess I'll never know."

From the distance of a couple inches, Finn looked a lot more serious than he usually did. "You want to thank her for making the cake for Toby?"

"For all the stuff she does. I know she's manipulative and she lies and stuff. She's… like me." He shrugged. "I get her. She gets me. I think that's worth something."

"I think so, too," Finn agreed. He kissed Puck again, with more intent this time, until it became clear he wasn't going to stop.

"We're in the hallway," he said to Finn, trying not to sound like he was complaining. But Finn's hand came up, covering his mouth, and gave him enough firm pressure to keep him up against the wall. He swallowed.

"Here's what I think's going to happen," Finn said quietly. "Because if I took you into that room off the kitchen, I'd have to be quiet, and I don't want to be quiet."

Puck gave a quick shake of his head, as well as he could under Finn's hand.

"Yeah. So I think I'm going to take you downstairs and strip you bare and cuff you to Kurt's bed, and you're going to wait right there for him to come back from Columbus. And I'm going to keep you on the edge of coming, for as long as it takes him to get back. That's only, what, a couple hours?"

Thanks to Finn's hand, Puck didn't have to muffle the moan that erupted from his throat. Finn smiled.

"You like that idea?"

Puck hesitated, moving his head far enough to be heard. "M'got dishes to finish. And marinade."

Finn cocked his head. "Well, I guess you'd better be quick about it, huh?"

"Yes, sir."

Finn let him go, swatting him lightly as he walked away.

Puck took a full breath in and out, feeling it move more easily through him. He'd meant everything he said to Burt and Carole, but this was different. Puck didn't need to hide what he wanted around Finn. Finn wasn't objecting to anything Puck said. Finn wasn't just saying  _All right_ to him. Finn gave him what he needed, and took what he wanted, and accepted it, just the way they were. He let Puck  _serve._ Puck was pretty sure there was nothing in the world he wanted more than that.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time the dishes were clean and sitting in the dish dryer, and the skirt steak was marinating in the fridge. When Finn came in and wrapped his fingers around the back of Puck's neck, Puck had a hard time hanging onto his awareness long enough to mumble a  _good night_  to Burt and Carole. But he still had words he needed to get out.

"I can't let her know that's what I'm doing," he said to Finn, following the guidance of his arm. "Because she doesn't want to hear about it."

"Who?" asked Finn.

"Shelby. She said I can't talk about that around her. Or maybe she changed her mind now? I said I didn't want the secrets."

"You know you can't tell her about Carl," he said. "Or Adam."

"Yes sir." Puck let Finn close the door behind them, let him be the one to take off Puck's jeans and his t-shirt and his socks and boots, because now it wasn't about service, it was about control, and Finn was definitely in control. "I want to, though."

"I know." Finn paused, his face drawn. Finally he sighed and pushed Puck back onto Kurt's mattress. "It's not my call. You'd have to talk to them about it."

"I just want to give her what she wants," said Puck. He felt the tension in Finn's hands, clasping his biceps, and relaxed into the security of his grip. The sensation of the leather on his wrists sent him further under, and he sighed.

"What does she want, Noah?" Finn asked, stroking his head.

"She wants to be a mom. For real, no take backs. She's ready for it now."

Finn frowned. "I don't know if that's something you can give away."

He struggled for threads of lucidity, making his mouth do the work of saying what was in his heart. "Not to give. To serve. S'different."

"I still don't know…" Finn sat back, his expression conflicted. "You're talking about a  _baby._  Maybe we should talk about this later."

He made himself keep talking. "Finn, she let me in her house. She gave me a key. Pretty sure nobody else gets that, nobody in her whole life." He could see in his mind how Shelby had looked when she'd said  _I don't know if I deserve another chance._ "She cut my  _hair._ "

"All right," he said softly.

Puck closed his eyes on the hurt.

He let Finn go on stroking his head, let him lay down beside him on the bed, let Finn tease his body to tingling alertness with gentle and sharp touches, but he couldn't bring himself to submit until Kurt opened the door and saw them there. He made a startled gasp.

"Noah," Kurt said, and Puck let himself disappear.

* * *

[ _http://youtu.be/ajWbxQXZFSk_ ](http://youtu.be/ajWbxQXZFSk)

_The sun goes down and so are we_  
 _I'm screaming at you but you don't hear me_  
 _am I alone or am I crazy  
_ _the ghost will come around for you inevitably_

_\- Mark Salling, "The Descent"_

* * *

Monday was a clusterfuck of the most inopportune variety. The last thing Kurt wanted to be doing the week before cheerleading Nationals was cleaning up toilet paper in the choir room. He was furious at Coach Sylvester for aiding and abetting the kids from Vocal Adrenaline's prank. Going to Cheerios practice after that was tense enough to make him pull his own hair.

Santana caught his arm on his way into the locker room after practice. "Don't let her get to you," she said in a low voice. "She's trying to make you mad."

"Well, it's working," he snapped. "I don't take kindly to underhanded tactics. Vocal Adrenaline trying to psyche us out with music is one thing, but the juvenile TPing? Toby and Shelby didn't sanction that."

When Kurt called him on the way home from practice, he didn't have a lot of hope that Adam would be there, but he figured at least he could leave a message. But then he heard Adam's own voice say, _"Hey, honey,"_ and he almost burst into tears.

"Do you have a minute?" Kurt asked.

_"I have about ten of them, before we board the plane to Stockholm. I think I can stretch it to fifteen. What's going on?"_

"Everything. Everything's going on, and I have zero tolerance for stupid stunts right now." He sniffed, trying to keep his eyes on the road. "I'm sorry. I don't want to be a big whiner."

_"Honey, you go right ahead and whine. You put up with my ranting on Twitter about those stupid three questions every interviewer seems to ask. Yes, I loved meeting Madonna. No, I'm not the new lead singer for Queen. Yes, I love Lady Gaga to death."_

Kurt smiled. "Everybody wants to know what it's like to be a big star, Adam."

_"It's exhausting, is what it is. You're finding that out right now, Mr. Celine Dion."_

"The singing is not the problem. I could sing Ce N'était Qu'un Rêve for hours. It's all the fucking  _drama."_  He indulged in a long sigh. "Conflict between the Cheerios and Glee, between Vocal Adrenaline and Glee, between Jesse St. James and Rachel… he defected back to Carmel, by the way. Now we're out one lead singer. That was the only thing standing between Vocal Adrenaline and victory. Toby's choreography on Another One Bites the Dust was flawless. Now we're all in one big funk."

 _"A funk, huh?"_ Adam chuckled. _"I don't know if you have my catalogue of Idol hits in your head, but two years ago, I sang a pretty funky song."_

"Oh! Yes, I remember that one. Wild Cherry. Play That Funky Music…"

_"Yeah, and Simon was kind enough to call it brave and original. It wasn't the best thing I ever performed, but thanks to Rickey Minor and the band, it was outrageous. From what I can tell, you've got a great ensemble there. Don't be afraid to lean on them. And I know you can get funky, Kurt."_

"Don't you start," he muttered, blushing.

_"Your band is your Glee club. Get everybody together, and show them what you can do, and it doesn't matter what kind of choreography they have. And you can tell Toby I said that. Now, you know what I want to hear."_

"Adam," he protested.

 _"Come on,"_ Adam wheedled, _"just a little for me, en Français? That one about not forgetting me."_

"God." Kurt rubbed his face. "It's a lot harder to sing to you over the phone when you're not drunk. Okay." He did the mental equivalent of his Single Ladies prep, and began:

[ _http://youtu.be/Xs4uZ6hOs18_ ](http://youtu.be/Xs4uZ6hOs18)

_Dans mes absences, parfois, sans doute (_ In my absences, sometimes, without doubt)  
 _J'aurais pu m'éloigner (_ I could have gone away)  
 _Comme si j'avais perdu ma route (_ As if I had lost my way)  
 _Comme si j'avais changé (_ As if I had changed)  
 _Alors j'ai quelques mots tendresse (_ So I have some tender words)  
 _Juste pour le dire (_ Only to say)

 _Je ne vous oublie pas, non, jamais (_ I'm not forgetting you, no, never)  
 _Vous êtes au creux de moi (_ You are deep within my heart)  
 _Dans ma vie, dans tout ce que je fais (_ In my life, in all that I do)  
 _Mes premiers amours (_ My first loves)  
 _Mes premiers rêves sont venus avec vous (_ my first dreams began with you)  
 _C'est notre histoire à nous (_ It's our own history)

 _Je ne vous oublie pas, non, jamais (_ I'm not forgetting you, no, never)  
 _Vous savez tant de moi (_ You know so much about me)  
 _De ma vie, de tout ce que j'en fais (_ Of my life, of everything I do)  
 _Alors mes bonheurs, mes déchirures se partagent avec vous (_ So my happy times, my heartbreaks are shared with you)  
 _C'est notre histoire à nous (_ It's our own story)  
 _Je ne vous oublie pas_  (I'm not forgetting you)

Adam sighed in satisfaction. _"And on that note, we're boarding. You sound fucking amazing, and you're going to crush the competition at Nationals. Your dad said he would record the news coverage for me."_

"Seriously? I wouldn't count on my dad knowing how to work the cable box, much less record anything," he said. "Have a safe flight. We'll call you when we can."

_"Thanks. If you can arrange it, I wouldn't mind hearing Noah's voice. I think he's been avoiding me. I love you, honey. Be strong."_

"I miss you," Kurt said quietly, but he was pretty sure Adam didn't hear him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puck makes a heinous mistake, and receives judgment from Shelby, Mr. Schue, Principal Figgins, Finn, Kurt, Carl and Tess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning in this chapter for discipline. That's pretty much this whole chapter, in fact. Lots of important conversations, too. Thanks, as always, to flinchflower for writing Tess. 
> 
> -amy

It had been a long time since Puck had been this angry. He used to feel like it all the time, before starting his stuff with Kurt and Finn and Adam and everybody. Holding onto everything, keeping it inside his gut — being in charge of  _himself_  — sparked the kind of rage he could barely describe, much less contain. After Vocal Adrenaline departed and Glee club had finished cleaning up the toilet paper, Puck was left with Mr. Schue's words: "Let's hit them back just like they hit us."

The only thing Puck could figure later was it  _felt_  like solidarity. He really, truly thought that determined nod Finn was giving him across the choir room was a secret signal, only to him, that Finn approved of what he was thinking about doing. Which, as it happened, was to sharpen his best chef's knife, to sneak out to his truck at 4 AM, to drive to Akron, and to puncture the tires of the entire fleet of Vocal Adrenaline Range Rovers.

He still didn't feel anything other than victorious when Shelby found him there, kneeling beside one of the deflated tires.

"Noah?" she gasped. He slipped the knife into his jacket, but it was too late; she'd seen it.

"You caught me," he said, rising to his feet with his hands up. "Now maybe your VA kids will know what it feels like to be on the ground with nowhere to go."

"You — did you —" She was speechless, staring at the vehicles. "This is  _destruction of property."_

He stood up straight and faced her. The false bravado felt good, familiar. He wondered if this was what junkies or alcoholics experienced when they fell off the wagon. "Yeah, well, I never said I was anything but a fucking punk, did I?"

"No, you didn't say that," she said, her voice shaking. "And I never would have said that to you, either."

"No, but you were thinking it. Just like  _all_  adults think that about me. They look at me and they say, there's a kid that'll never go anywhere. He's no better than a common criminal." He lunged at her, and she flinched back, shocked. "Yeah. I know what I'm good at. Intimidating people, playing the guitar and taking the fall for the rest of my team. So go ahead — arrest me."

Shelby locked eyes with him, her face white as flour.

"I'm not going to let you get away with this," she said. "You can either come with me right now, or I  _will_  go get security."

"Whatever," he muttered. He shuffled after her, a few steps behind, and jerked away from the hand that tried to reach for his.

"Well, this is proof if I ever needed it." She laughed to herself. "I'm not cut out to be the parent of a teenager."

"You're not my fucking mom," he bit out.

"No, and she didn't do her job either, did she? If you got to sixteen, thinking this kind of behavior is okay, then something is definitely lacking."

"I do what needs to be done." Puck couldn't help but swagger a little. The feeling of power was thrilling. Why had he given this up? The payoff seemed pitiful by comparison.

"There is no excuse for violence!"

He snickered. "Against a  _tire?_  You should have seen the  _violence_  exacted against our choir room by your fine upstanding students. We spent our entire rehearsal cleaning up six garbage cans of toilet paper."

"I can't believe you, Noah." She crossed her arms, looking straight ahead. "You're the same person who insisted, last night on the phone, that I was better than this. That I needed to talk to Jesse, because that was the  _right thing to do."_

"I can tell right from wrong," he said. "I just don't care."

She shot him an incredulous look. "You think your boyfriends will care when they find you in juvie? Because that's exactly where you're headed if you keep this up!"

"They might care, but that's not my concern. I'm a casualty of war."

It was an awesome idea. But then he thought about Sarah, and he felt a flicker of unease.  _If I go to juvie, I won't be with Sarah. She'll have Kurt and Finn, but… wasn't there some reason why it was important, that he was there?_

She led Puck into a large, well-appointed office and closed the door behind her, drawing the miniblinds, then turned to face him. She looked completely furious. Puck didn't mind. He could handle anger.

"I have no idea what to do with you," she said.

He sneered at her. "Join the club. Grown-ups have been saying that to me all my life."

"I'm not finished. I do know some conventional routes to justice. We're going to start by bringing you to your principal. Your choir director will want to hear about this."

"Trust me, he knows exactly what I'm capable of." He wanted to say  _he's the one who told me I should do this,_ but he wasn't going to throw Mr. Schue under the bus. Puck was going to take the heat for this.

"But I also remember enough about Carl and Davis and what  _they_  do when something like this happens," she continued grimly.

Puck couldn't help it. He started to laugh.

"You think you're going to  _spank_  me?" he sputtered.

"No." She picked up the phone. "I'm going to call your boyfriend, and he's going to take care of it."

"What, because  _you_  say so?" He was still laughing. "He  _said_  I should do this."

"He told you to commit a crime? I doubt that."

"He didn't need to say anything," said Puck. "I could read exactly what he was thinking on his face."

She held up the receiver, her face expressionless. "Are you going to give me his number, or do I need to look it up?"

"Am I being detained? Because I could just walk out any —"

Shelby was already dialing. "Will Schuester, Lima, Ohio," she said into the phone. Puck reached over and tried to hang up the connection, but she deflected his hand with one look. He changed his mind, crossing his arms, and sat down to wait, feeling restless. To him, she said, "Is Mr. Schuester going to call Kurt, or do you want to do it first?"

"Not Kurt," he said, after a moment. "He's already got too much stuff going on, and anyway, it wasn't his fault. This was my deal. I'll call Finn."

"Kurt's going to find out eventually. This isn't something you can just brush under the rug, Noah."

The disappointed look on her face was familiar, too. He was used to disappointing adults. But thinking about disappointing Kurt felt… well, something, and he didn't like it.

Puck gave her his best stony stare. She gave it right back to him. Then she slid a pad of paper across the desk toward him.

"Here. Write Finn's number down." She cleared her throat. "Will, it's Shelby Corcoran. I'm sorry to bother you at six in the morning, but I need to tell you about something one of your students did. … Yes, yes, I understand some of my students came to McKinley yesterday and did some things too. I apologize, and I'll be addressing that with them. This is about Noah Puckerman. He's right here in my office. Yes, that's fine." She paused, holding out the phone to him. "He wants to speak with you."

Puck took the phone with a sense of unreality. Shelby's disapproval was, at least, an anchor to which he could hold on to. Being told Mr. Schue on the other end of the line was like being asked to talk to the President.  _Or Lady Gaga,_  he thought, and blanched.  _She probably wouldn't be too happy with me, actually._

"Hey," he said, as confidently as he could manage. "It's Puck. Vocal Adrenaline's down a fleet of Range Rovers."

"Puck," he said warningly. "What did you do?"

"I hit 'em back, Mr. Schue. Just call me Newton. I'm the equal and opposite force." He saw Shelby reaching for the receiver, and said quickly, "If she lets me go free, I'll be back at school this morning. You can grill me then. But I'm not sorry for doing it."

"Okay." Mr. Schue sighed. "Just come to school. We'll deal with things here."

Shelby was already on her cell phone, talking quietly. When Puck handed her the office phone, she passed him her cell.

"Explain the whole thing this time."

He put the phone to his ear, and heard Finn say, with disbelief, "Puck?"

"I did it," he boasted. "I came out here and slashed every one of their entitled fucking tires."

There was a stunned silence. "Holy shit," Finn said. "You're serious."

"Damn straight I am. I'm not going to let some pussy-faced —"

"Puck! Listen to me.  _Stop talking_  and  _come home._  Is Ms. Corcoran going to let you take the truck?"

"She can't stop me. It's my property." He let Shelby take the phone from his hand, calling, "Don't tell Kurt!"

"Finn," she said, "I'm going to have him leave his truck here and drive him back to McKinley myself. I'll set up an appointment with your principal." She sighed and put a hand to her forehead. "No, I'm not. You're welcome. No, I know, it's not, he's just… I couldn't let it go." She looked at him again, and he had to look away first. "I'll see you in a couple hours. Yeah."

When she hung up, she waited with her hands on her hips until he said, "What?"

She held out a hand. "Give me the knife."

He drew it out of his jacket with a scowl. "You can't make me go with you," he said.

"Would you prefer the alternative? It would involve handcuffs and a warrant." She opened her desk drawer, set the knife inside, then locked it. Then she went to the hook by the door and retrieved her coat. "So much for coming in early to work on report cards. You owe me big time, mister."

" _Owe_ you?" he cried, following her out as she closed the office behind her. "Owe you for making me leave my truck in Akron and ratting on me to my principal?"

She whirled to face him. He had to take a step back, or she would have run right into him. "Noah, I am a  _teacher._  That makes me responsible for you and everything you do on school property."

"I'm not your student. You don't have to do  _anything_  for me."

"You might not think so, but that's not the case." This time, when she grabbed his hand, he didn't pull away. "My car's in the back parking lot. Come on."

The drive back to Lima felt a lot longer than the one to Akron had. Puck wasn't really worried about leaving his truck; he was lucky it had made it to Akron in the first place. Shelby drove the speed limit the whole way, but he could see by the way she was gripping the steering wheel it wasn't easy for her

"Why are you so pissed?" he said. "Vocal Adrenaline has, like, a shitton of money. It was an act of principle."

"It was an act of  _stupidity,"_  she yelled. "For the life of me, Noah, I can't figure out how you can have such a big heart and such little judgment! You manage to make beef wellington and balance sixty-three relationships, but you can't tell the difference between stepping up to the line and… taking a gigantic leap off the cliff?" She was gazing at him out of the corner of her eye in horrified appeal. "How on god's earth do you plan to take care of a child?"

He scratched the back of his neck and stared out the window, away from her condemnation.

"I have no fucking idea," he admitted. "When I came back from Santa Fe, I thought, even if Finn doesn't want to be in charge of me — sorry, I know that you don't want to hear about that —"

"Whatever," she said, dismissing his apology with a shake of her head. "I've heard it all before."

"Yeah. Even if he didn't, I still had Kurt, and — and Max." He slouched further down in his seat. "His name's not Max."

"I know."

"And Burt and Carole and everybody. They'd be around as long as they could be, and they'd help me out. Not the kid part. I can handle that. I  _want_  to handle that. But… the me part." He grimaced to himself. "Sometimes I can't handle that."

"I know," she said again, softer. "I can see it. I know I'm not the only one who does, either. Noah, you're the least alone of any person I know. You can ask for help."

"Yeah, I know that, sometimes? There's a lot of people who signed on to taking care of me. But Max is in Europe, and Kurt's got Cheerios, and Finn's got this boy in Westerville, and Sarah's trying to invent, like, fucking Xanadu or something. Sometimes it has to be up to  _me_  to figure out me. It's those times that scare me. I know I'm not enough for myself. Not all the time." He sighed. "Not even most of the time."

They rode the stretch of highway 30 between Crestline and Bucyrus in silence. Shelby looked like she was wrestling with what to say.

"Look," she said finally, "there's a reason why kids do better with two parents. It's not because of some kind of magic. It's because one parent holds the other one up when they can't do it anymore. That doesn't mean there's some fault in you." She gave him a wry smile. "Trust me, that baby will be born, and everybody will fall in love with it."

"Her," said Puck.

She nodded. "Her. They'll be falling all over themselves to babysit."

"But raising a kid isn't babysitting," he said. "I know, because my sister and I, we kind of raised ourselves. Most of the time it's about sticking around and doing the stuff that needs to be done, the dirty work. That's the stuff you only want to do if you're a parent."

Shelby shrugged. "That's the good stuff, though."

"Yeah, I think so. It's the stuff that scares most people off. But not you."

"Not you, either." She sighed. "Okay. You answered my question."

When they arrived at McKinley, school had already begun, but Finn was waiting for them outside Principal Figgins' office. He stood and offered Shelby his hand without hesitation. She shook it.

"Thank you for bringing him back," he said, his voice low. "I'm really sorry for this inconvenience."

"It's not your fault," she said, but Finn shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. It's my responsibility anyway."

It was so close to what Shelby had said that Puck wanted to mention it, but it was clear from the expression on Finn's face that he wasn't going to let Puck say anything. Shelby was looking at Finn with curiosity. She nodded. "Okay."

"We're supposed to go in and the office will page Mr. Schue from class. He said I should wait here. Was it — really bad?"

"The tires of twenty-six Range Rovers," she said crisply. He winced.

"Okay. Thank you for deciding not to press charges. That could really mess things up for the adoption."

Shelby gave him a closer look. "The baby?"

"No, no, I mean Sarah. And Puck." He held the door open for her, and then for Puck. Puck scooted in ahead of him, not meeting Finn's eyes, and went right to Figgins' office.

"Mr. Puckerman." Figgins tsked as Puck took a seat. He reached over his desk and shook Shelby's hand. "You must be Ms. Corcoran, returning our wayward student all the way from Carmel. McKinley is in your debt." He took in Finn's presence with an impassive eye. "Finn, were you involved?"

"Yeah," Finn said. "I'm involved."

Mr. Schue came in quietly and stood in the back next to Shelby. "Ms. Corcoran, thank you for coming in so early. Am I to understand you witnessed Noah Puckerman vandalizing your property?"

She nodded. "I found him in the parking lot."

_Hypocrite,_  Puck thought stonily, as Mr. Schue turned his outrage on him.  _You said we should get back at them._  "Puck, is this true?"

"Yeah," said Puck. "I did it, and I'm proud. All I did was step up and be a man. They got what was coming to them!"

"A few of my students TP'd your choir room," Shelby sighed. "You slashed the tires on the Range Rovers of all twenty-six of my performers. Those were gifts for our win at sectionals. That's two hundred times twenty-six times four, which is…" She tossed her head. "I don't have a calculator."

"Nobody got hurt," Mr. Schue protested. "It was a harmless prank."

Puck tuned out Coach Sylvester's stupid anecdote and watched Finn. He looked more than a little anxious. Puck wasn't sure what that meant, but he predicted it wasn't going to end well for him.

"Enough," Principal Figgins announced. "These students have committed a felony, and are therefore expelled."

Puck would have talked some sense into him that no, Finn didn't do a damn thing, no matter what he said about being responsible, but Shelby cut in. "I don't want anyone to get expelled. I'm not going to press charges as long as you pay for the damage. You can take it out of the Glee club budget."

"That'll bankrupt Glee club. We don't  _have_  money like that." Mr. Schue's voice was rising.

"We'll get jobs," Finn interrupted. They all stopped and looked at him as he turned to Shelby. "Give us a month. We'll pay you back, Ms. Corcoran. I promise."

That was apparently going to be enough to appease both Shelby and Principal Figgins. Finn beckoned for Puck to follow as he got to his feet while the adults were talking. "Come on," he said under his breath. "Back in the front office."

"I think if I'm getting suspended, they should at least give me a day off school," Puck said. Finn handed him his backpack.

"They're not suspending you. Kurt's dad signed you out and I'm taking you home. Kurt gave me the Navigator." Finn scrawled his name on the clipboard on the desk and passed it over to Puck.

"I told you not to bother Kurt with this —"

"He's your  _boyfriend,_ " Finn said tightly. "Of course he's going to find out. He's going to want to know you're okay. Rather than me following you all over school, I'll meet you in the parking lot, but you're going to check in with him in chemistry first." He fixed him with a look. "You'll meet me out front?"

"What, you think I'm going to try to ditch you?" Puck said.

Finn shook his head wearily. "Honestly, I don't know what I think right now."

"Finn," Mr. Schue called. They turned to see him coming out of Figgins' office. "You weren't involved. What are you doing here?"

"I'm doing what I said I would, Mr. Schue. Whatever Puck did, it's my fault too. I'm taking him back to Mr. Hummel's house."

Mr. Schue still looked skeptical. "I was just thinking, Terri is an assistant manager at Sheets'N'Things, and she's always looking for part-time help. That might be a way to make some of that money back."

"Yeah," Finn said, nodding. "Thanks. That would be something. I'm gonna get the car."

Puck got away from Mr. Schue as fast as he could. He didn't want to deal with trying to answer any of his questions, much less the disapproval.

Kurt's chemistry class didn't have a window, so Puck just went to the door and stuck his head in, calling, "Yo, Kurt, Coach Sylvester needs you." The Coach's name could interrupt academics better than anything else, especially the week before Nationals. Within seconds, Kurt was in the hallway.

"This isn't about the Coach, is it?" he asked. Puck shook his head. Kurt grasped his hand firmly, looking grim. "Come with me upstairs."

"Finn's waiting outside," Puck said quietly. Kurt paused, then resumed his determined pace.

"This won't take long. But I don't want to deal with anyone interrupting us, and I'm not carrying my master janitorial key in this Cheerios uniform. No pockets."

Puck had his key to the attic music storage room. All three of them had a copy, for whenever they wanted access, in whatever configuration they happened to be in. As soon as Puck opened the door, Kurt was pushing aside boxes of sheet music and shoving Puck onto the mattress.

"Hey," Puck protested.

"You don't get  _hey,"_  Kurt hissed. "You get  _yes, sir_ and  _I'm sorry, sir,_  and that's about it."

Puck gulped as Kurt knelt on top of him, his fingers making dents in Puck's shoulders. "I have to —"

" _What?"_

"I'm — I'm sorry, sir."

"That's right. You may not know why you're sorry yet, but you can tell I'm not happy, can't you." Kurt lowered himself down so they were nose to nose.  _"Can't you?"_

"Yes sir," Puck whispered.

"And when you see that happening, you'd better reconsider doing anything  _else_  until you figure out why." His stormy eyes were more terrifying than Puck would have anticipated. Anger didn't make Kurt any less beautiful, but Puck decided he'd better hold his tongue about that. Kurt placed a hand in the center of his chest. "Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm not going to punish you here. I'm too angry for that. You're going to have to go home with Finn, and I won't see you until tonight." He bared his teeth, and Puck shrank back into the mattress. "I'll deal with you then."

"Yes, sir," he said a third time. When Kurt bothered to give him commands, he was damn sure going to follow them, even if he didn't exactly get what was going on. "I'm sorry, sir."

Kurt wound his arms around him, holding him tight. That made Puck want to cry. He hugged Kurt back, kissing his teary face.

"I love you," Kurt said. "This has nothing to do with that. All right?"

"I really didn't want to stress you out more," Puck told him. Kurt nodded, kissing him back.

"Don't try to explain now. Finn's going to help you. Just do what he says."

Puck could feel his bravado beginning to peel away as Kurt helped him up and nudged him toward the door. He wanted to say anything he could, anything to make it okay again. "Toby's getting his test results back this week."

Kurt looked up at him, startled, then nodded. "How did you — never mind. Okay. Thank you."

"Shelby made him a cake," he said. Kurt nodded again, his eyes spilling over. "I just wanted you to know."

"Go right downstairs to Finn, now," he choked, and shut the door.

Puck found Finn and the Navigator idling in the front drop-off circle. He didn't say anything more as Puck climbed into the passenger seat, and they drove back to Kurt's house in silence. When they got there, Finn sat in the garage for a good long while. Puck wasn't sure what he was expected to do, but he waited beside him until Finn sighed.

"I'm going to have you talk with Tess," he said, "while I call Carl."

"Okay," Puck said uneasily. He liked talking to Tess, but he guessed that she wouldn't be any happier with him than anybody else was.

Finn nodded at the door. "Inside."

"Sir," he said quickly, scrambling out and through the door the basement.

It was strange being home in the morning on a school day. He puttered around in the kitchen for a few minutes, putting away the dishes in the dish dryer and wiping off the perfectly clean counters until Finn came in and beckoned him to follow, into his room off the kitchen.

Finn handed Puck the phone. "Here. I told her what happened. She's waiting to talk to you." He thrust a finger at him. "I am _not_ done with you."

It was one of those moments of abrupt clarity when Puck gained sudden perspective on something he had done, and realized just how completely, utterly fucked up the situation was. It felt something like standing beside a lovely mountain vista, attempting to make the climb - and stepping off a two-hundred foot drop he'd completely failed to notice.

He just nodded silently, and took the phone in both hands, putting it to his ear. He had to swallow twice before he was able to croak out, "Lady Tess?"

" _Noah Aaron Puckerman."_

"Ma'am," he whispered. Finn nodded, backing out of the room, and closed the door firmly behind him.

She repeated his name, in that same quiet, dreadful tone, and there was a long pause after that.

"I - I can explain," he began, but he knew there was no point. It was just that bad.

" _Yes. You are going to explain in intimate, excruciating detail, little boy. I do not want to hear about whatever provoked your actions. Do you know why that is?"_

"Because I'm screwed, no matter what?"

Puck heard the a bang from the other end of the line, and winced, then winced again as a second, quieter report sounded.

" _One,"_  Tess said, and the word sounded ominous.  _"I believe in full disclosure,"_  she continued, and he found himself quaking at the icy sound of her voice. He couldn't ever remember her sounding this way, not even when she had been so angry with Carl.  _"I have before me on my office desk a lovely, leatherbound notebook. It now has your name inscribed across the front page, Noah. I do like to keep a record for_ _ **my boys."**_

Puck nearly dropped the phone, hearing the emphasis. As it was, he had to scramble to keep it from falling out of his grip.

" _Are you settled down now,"_  she asked.

He nodded vigorously. "Finn... brought me back from school. They gave me the day off. Shelby drove me back from Akron. I swear, Lady Tess, I thought Finn was - I mean, in Glee, when Mr. Schue was talking about retribution, and our eyes met, and he nodded, and  _I_ nodded, and I thought..." He trailed off, because how absolutely stupid to think that Finn would even consider sanctioning an action like that. Finn had always been the good kid, the one who kept Noah from messing up too badly. He sighed. "I just thought it was the right thing to do."

" _I appreciate the disclosure, though it is early. You have not yet answered my question. Why is is that I do not I want to hear about what provoked your actions, prior to that Glee session?"_

He wasn't sure what she would do if he kept guessing and getting it wrong, and decided honesty might be the best plan. "Uh... I don't know?"

" _That is an acceptable answer. I will warn you to not abuse that phrase. Noah, I don't want to hear about it, because whatever the action that provoked your reaction - you, Noah Aaron Puckerman, are better than that. You are better than a base, thoughtless, impulsive, impetuous, careless, and shameful action. You are capable of thinking things through. You failed to do so here, didn't you."_

"Yes, ma'am," he said, hanging his head and staring at the floor. It had been a long time since he'd screwed up bad enough to end up in Principal Figgins' office.

" _If your loved ones are unable to coach you into thinking, I shall take a hand. And I do not consider myself to be in line behind Finn or Kurt, or Adam, or even Burt. You are mine."_ He felt a sudden shock across his heart as he heard the word.  _"Yes. Remember to breathe, you fool boy. You are mine. It's obvious you need care, and since I believe it is to your benefit if I step in, I intend to do so. Unless you find you have objections to this."_

"No," he said immediately. The relief was already cascading over him. "I think - no. No objections." He had a murky memory of Tess on the phone with him, back in Carl's upstairs apartment, and himself, in the corner on his knees. Had someone else shown up at that point? He couldn't exactly recall. It had just been Tess, her voice, and himself, being so thankful.

" _Excellent. Now, briefly, in your own words, once you larked off into turning an emotional reaction into physical action, what did you do?_

He took as few sentences as he could manage - he knew Tess preferred it that way, and he wasn't much of a talker anyway - to explain what he'd done with the tires of the Vocal Adrenaline Range Rovers. The sound she made when she heard him say the number  _twenty-six_ was beyond imagining.

"Principal Figgins said we - I mean, me, I did it, but Finn said he was gonna take responsibility for it too, and what was I supposed to say?"

" _You were supposed to say 'Thank you, sir,' to Young Master Finn, whether it was there or in private."_

"I did," he promised, "as soon as we were out of there." He glanced nervously at the door. "He was really mad, though."

" _Do you understand that it is his responsibility, since you are in his care?"_

"I know."

" _I will wish to speak with Young Master Kurt. I would prefer he relinquish his share of that burden to myself."_

"Kurt is already freaking out about Cheerios Nationals. That's this weekend. He's barely been home at all this week. And Adam..." The name stuck in his throat. "I don't know. He hasn't been there much when we've called. He's getting ready for this tour, and..." He closed his mouth on the words  _I think he's freaking out too,_  because if he said them, they might end up being true, and Puck was pretty sure that would break something in him.

" _We will cope with that later in this conversation. I am inclined, however, to contact Young Master Adam on your behalf, but I require time to consider this action. I am also considering your impending discipline. You may continue."_

"Just that Principal Figgins said we'd committed a felony and we'd have to go to prison. Shelby stepped in pretty quick and suggested we pay for the tires out of the Glee club budget, but Glee club seriously doesn't have a budget, Lady Tess. So Finn said we'd get jobs. Mr. Schue's ex-wife will let us work at Sheets'n'Things for minimum wage. I have a little left over from pool cleaning money."

It was pretty freaking obvious that none of those solutions were going to cut it. Shelby might not have been able to do the math in Principal Figgins' office, but  _he_  had, and where exactly did Finn think they were going to come up with $20,800 in a month?

There was a long silence, and then he heard Tess sigh. The sound made him wince.  _"He is correct, Noah, that is a felony offense. You now have a debt of honor, to Shelby, for that boon. I wholly approve of you using the remainder of your savings, despite the fact that you are expecting a child. And I also approve of the debt being worked off. However, I feel that the solution has some dire impracticalities."_

"Yeah," he said, rubbing his forehead. "I'm trying not to think about that."

" _You will explain to me what you are trying not to think about."_

"Just... if Finn tries to ask his mom for help or something... I mean, there goes whatever money she might make in the sale of her house, if she manages to sell it at all. I don't want to tell him what to do, but - I also don't want to put her in that situation, you know?"

" _Noah Aaron. You will contact Shelby. You will explain to her that you have spoken to me. You will obtain from Shelby the invoice from the tire company, for replacing all_ _ **one hundred and four**_ _tires. Then you will submit the invoice to me, for payment in full. At that point, your debt transfers to_ _ **me**_ _."_

"Lady Tess." He blanched. "I can't - I can't ask you to do that for me."

" _You did not ask me to do that. You are_ _ **mine,**_ _Noah Aaron, and that means I am responsible for your care, I am responsible for your actions. I judge, by age and by income, that I am, among those who care for you, best able to resolve the consequences of your thoughtless actions. This will be done, Noah."_

She sounded so grim, and he found himself close to tears. He wished desperately that Finn hadn't left him there, had stayed to hold his hand, or cuff him, or something. The word  _mine_  was scant comfort in the face of what he'd done.

Her voice cracked out, startling him out of his distress.  _"You will acknowledge me, little boy."_

"Yes, ma'am," he said immediately.

" _What will you be doing tomorrow?"_

"I... guess I'll be talking to Shelby. Can I tell her about this? About you?"

" _There's my good boy. Yes, you may tell her. Good boys ask, and thank you for asking."_  His relief was short-lived as her voice regained some of its wicked steel.  _"Now, Noah Aaron. You will tell me_ _ **how**_ _you slashed those tires."_

"It was my chef's knife," he said, startled. "The Wüsthof. Shelby kept it, when she found me in the parking lot."

" _You will need to get it back from her. Because, Noah Aaron, you will either sheathe that knife, or wrap it well, and place it in a box - a shoebox will do. You will then set that box aside to bring to me. Is the loss of that knife an issue for you in the kitchen?"_

He sighed. "I… I can deal. Kurt's dad's knives are pretty crappy, but -"

" _You will_ _ **not**_ _'deal,' "_ she told him, and he could hear the disdain for that word in her voice. There was an odd silence that he knew was Tess muting her phone for a moment, but then she was back.  _"Turning that knife over to_ _ **me**_ _will be part of your punishment, part of your personal discipline. I have yet to decide whether or not you might earn that back, Noah. And I intend, as is my right by my care of you, to consult a little on this."_  He'd have sworn that she sounded crafty and cunning but - he had to answer, he didn't want to be scolded for silence again.

"Yes, ma'am." He felt more relief at her words. This was the kind of penance he'd been looking for when he'd come to Kurt to confess his misdeeds.

" _Ah, James."_  There was the noise of the iPhone being put on speaker.  _"James, say hello to young Noah."_

" _Noah! I'm pleased to hear from you."_

"Uh," he said weakly, licking his lips. No one at Tessera was more terrifying than Tess herself, but six-foot-four head chef James definitely ran a close second. "Yeah. Me too."

" _James, Noah has used his best chef's knife to slash no fewer than one hundred and four tires of an opposing high school team rival. Noah, the brand of the knife, if you please?"_

Noah could hear the… well, James never exactly spluttered, but he could tell the man was shocked as shit, and he'd never seen anything ruffle James, and that was  _so_  bad -

" _Two,"_  Tess said firmly.

"Uh - a Wüsthof. Ma'am."

" _I'm certain a boy of mine wouldn't fail to acknowledge Master James, now would he?"_

"No, sir, no, ma'am," he said quickly. He was already feeling faint. "I'm sorry."

" _You will be,"_ came James' deep rumble.  _"I intend to teach you myself what a fine knife ought to be used for. In the meantime, you will find in the post a new knife, sometime this week. You will owe_ _ **me**_ _the time, for not only a new knife, but for your shameful behavior with the tool of an honorable, peaceful, and thoughtful position. Do you understand, Noah?"_

"Yes, sir," he said again. The announcement was a relief in a different way. He hadn't been looking forward to dealing with Kurt's dad's old knives again, not when cooking for six or more people every night.

" _Excellent, Noah. We will arrange that time when you're next here, with respect to the requirements that Mistress Tess lays out for you. In the meantime, as someone who cares about you, Noah, I expect to hear better reports of your behavior in the future. And I'd like you to spend some time in the kitchen, caring for your family, in the meantime. I don't mean kitchen slavery, boy. I mean something more in line of one meal, once a week, prepared with deep thought and deep love for those who care for you, there in Lima, with respect to their needs and likes - and blended together to create harmony. Think you can handle that?"_

"Yes, sir. I already have a menu planned for the next five weeks."

" _Then review it with respect to what I've asked you to do - and send me copies of both the original menu, and the revisions. Understood?"_

He leaned back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, as much to quiet the pounding of his head as to give him a place to rest. It had been a long drive out to Carmel this morning. "Yes, sir."

" _Very good. You're loved, Noah, don't forget that. I'll leave you to Tess' mercy, now."_

The door opened and Finn entered, moving as quietly as he ever did. He paused by the doorway for just a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed, watching in silence while Puck continued his call. Almost as though he didn't realize he was doing it, he rested his hand on Puck's knee, stroking it gently. It made Puck break out in shivers.

" _Noah,"_  Tess said, her voice very quiet, so that he had to strain to hear it, just a little.  _"When you are next here, I shall discipline you, and it will be severe. The discipline I assign will not be affected in any way by the discipline you receive from Finn, Kurt, Adam, or Burt - or the school. Do you understand?"_

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered back. "Thank you."

" _Very good, my Noah,"_  she told him, and he felt like maybe she was faintly praising him, but he didn't deserve anything like that.  _"Now, I will want to know when you speak with Adam and Kurt - you are to call me immediately when those conversations turn to the fact that I owe you severe discipline, I'm certain they will understand. Burt should feel free to call me as well. Do you understand?"_

"I'll tell them." He could feel himself rapidly losing his words.

" _That's my very good boy, Noah. Now. Before I end my time on the telephone, I will want to speak with Young Master Finn. But before I do that… Noah Aaron. Do you have questions for me? You must tell me what you need from me, right now. Don't make me get to that count of three, please."_

"I don't know," he started, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth, "how I could have... how did I think that was okay, what I did?"

Finn's fingers interlaced with his, gripping tightly, almost painfully. He inclined his head toward Finn, and that was enough for Finn to pull him over to rest his head on Finn's thigh.

" _You made a mistake, my Noah,"_  came Tess's incredibly careful and gentle words.  _"And I never find it difficult to forgive mistakes, though some mistakes require discipline in order to assure me that the mistake shall not be repeated. It is all right to not know what you need from me right now. You must promise me… when you do know, you will call me. Right now, your job is to show me with your actions, and your obedience to my request, and the requests of James, and Finn, and Adam and Kurt, that you understand your mistake, that you are willing to pay the price - in this case, a high price - for that mistake, and that you will put your best effort forward to not making that mistake again. I believe that you will not, because you are mine, and I do not make poor choices, darling."_

Puck tried not to break down, because there, at the end, was the endearment. Tess was careless with them, to the point of it feeling awkward sometimes, but the lack of them throughout this conversation had felt like a condemnation.

"I'm sorry," he said. He looked up at Finn, who was watching him with such an expression of grave concern that Puck almost didn't recognize it as his. "I'm... I'm really sorry."

" _Thank you, my sweet Noah. Is Finn there with you?"_

"Yeah. He just came back in."

" _Do you need me, darling? We can talk for longer if you need me right now. And it's all right, whether you do, or you don't. I think of it as my Noah needing to talk, or my Noah needing to rest. It's all right, darling. My only needs are for your honesty, and to speak briefly with Finn."_

Her words were soothing, and he found himself closing his eyes. "I'm tired. Think I should prob'ly sleep."

" _Then why don't you rest, sweetheart. I do love you. Sleep sweet, and dream quietly. Now hand the phone to Finn, please."_

Puck could hear Finn speaking quietly to Tess before setting the phone on the table beside his bed. He didn't open his eyes until Finn said his name: "Noah."

"Sir," he murmured.

"Tess said she accepted your apology, but Carl has some other ideas about what you need. I'm not gonna do any of it right now. Can I, like… just lie down here with you?"

Puck glanced over his shoulder at him. "You want to?"

Finn sighed, running his hand over Puck's back. "God, I could barely keep from touching you from the second you walked into school this morning. Not to  _do_  anything. Just to, you know. Be close. Yeah, I want to."

That made Puck really start crying, where nothing else that morning had. He curled himself into a miserable little ball, and Finn wrapped himself around him, holding on.

"Fuck," he moaned, hiding his face behind one hand. "I really thought you  _wanted_  me to do that. To cut those tires. To make them  _pay._ "

"I know," Finn said, sounding just as wretched as he felt. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything. And — that's another thing. You, taking the heat for me in Figgins' office…"

"Hey," he said sharply, cutting him off. "Shut up. I'm  _always_  going to take the heat for you. You understand?"

"Not really," Puck admitted, his voice shaky. Finn held him tighter.

"My boy," he said. "Mine. That means something. Remember?"

Puck pressed Finn's hand to his cheek, feeling the drum calluses on the side of his fingers. He had a flash of memory, or maybe something from a dream: curly blonde hair next to black, just as curly, and a quiet lullaby:  _Never look back, no, I'll never look back._

"You can be mad at me," said Puck.

"Oh, I am," Finn said. He leaned his forehead against Puck's temple. "I'm calmer now, though. I talked to Carl."

"Oh. Is he mad at me too?"

"No. But he's on his way over to help me deal with you." Finn put a hand on Puck to keep him from getting up. "Not yet. Just stay where you are."

Puck obliged, trying not to think too hard about what ideas Carl might have given Finn. The possibilities made him light-headed. Finn's arms felt better than restraints, and he struggled a little against them.

"Shelby was really mad, too," he said, "but it was nothing compared to Kurt. I don't think I've seen him like that before. He was freaking terrifying."

"He loves you too."

"Yeah, he said. And Tess, too."

"And me, too," Finn whispered.

"Even though I fucked up so bad?" Puck had to ask.

"That doesn't make a difference. Even when I'm pissed at you, I still want to —"

He cut himself off. That was evident, the heat of Finn's cock, trapped between them on the bed. Puck laughed shakily.

"Trust me, I was sporting a big woody the whole time I was cutting those tires. It's a buzz, breaking rules."

Finn took a deep breath, clutching Puck to him. "I'm not going to do anything to you right now, but that doesn't mean I don't  _want_  to."

"I wouldn't mind," said Puck.

Finn choked off a laugh.  _"I'd_  mind. I'm trying not to be  _completely_  creepy. But, okay, yeah. I fucking love you too. It's not like that goes away just because you screwed up."

They stayed there on Puck's bed until the doorbell rang. Puck could feel the tension in Finn's limbs, as taut as his own, as Finn extracted himself from their tangle and went out to answer the door. Puck stayed on the bed, staring at the wall, wishing he knew how to get out of this situation.

In a moment, Carl appeared in the doorway. He set a duffel bag on the floor and crouched beside Puck's bed, placing a hand on his head. Puck had seen that kind, solemn expression before.

"Puck," he said, "Finn asked me to come over to help him discipline you for what you did. I'm going to need your consent to assist."

"Yeah," he said. He heaved himself upright, cracking his neck. "Yeah, it's okay."

Carl nodded silently. He looked up at Finn. "Would it be better to take him downstairs? He might need some significant recovery time."

"No, Kurt needs the bed. He's training for cheerleading Nationals next weekend, and he's been coming home exhausted every night." Finn looked behind him at the closed door. "We'll have to be in here."

Carl reached over and unzipped his duffel, pulling out a pair of sturdy leather cuffs. "Over his head, if you have nothing to cuff him to in here. You're going to want him still for this." To Puck, he just said, "Strip."

Puck did it as quickly as he could, returning to the bed once he'd ditched his clothes on the floor. Carl took his hands and held them together while Finn put the cuffs on him. Finn's thigh nudged up against his shoulder, and Puck felt the pressure of Finn's half-hard cock as he leaned over him. It was kind of a relief to know he wasn't the only one getting turned on by the situation. He knelt on the bed, propped up on his elbows, and hung his head, waiting for whatever Finn saw fit to give him.

"Hold it like this," Carl said to Finn. Puck couldn't see what he was holding, but he waited as patiently as he could. "Keep your hand here, to balance the stroke. Let the cane do the work."

"The —  _cane?"_  Puck yelped. He twisted around to look, but Carl yanked the cuffs out in front of him, and he landed on his face on the bed. "Wait a second."

"Yeah," Finn said grimly. "Six strokes. I got caned once, when I drove to Westerville without permission. You don't get to drive that far without somebody knowing where you are, especially not in that truck. This is for that."

"I won't," he begged. "I'm not gonna do anything. Ow!" That was Finn's hand, leaving a sharp retort on his ass. He returned to elbows and knees, breathing heavily. "Fuck. I'm sorry, sir."

"Better," Carl said. He sounded one hundred percent serious, no joking around or congeniality here. "I can absolutely guarantee this won't be the last caning you'll get for this offense, Puck."

Puck had memories of Adam wielding a cane to discipline him, when Puck had left the hotel room in Santa Fe and tried to buy a beer at three in the morning, but he wasn't at all sure if those memories were true. In any case, he  _seemed_  to remember how much this hurt. He braced himself against the cuffs, trying to do anything other than scramble off the bed, but he could feel the primal fight-or-flight response taking over.

As Finn moved into position beside him, Carl moved in front of him. He crouched down again, almost level with Puck's face.

"Finn," Puck tried again, feeling the panic rise. "Just — I can't —"

"Yeah. You can." Carl looked straight into his eyes. "You  _can._  Now you have to decide if you  _will._ And you know how to stop it, if you decide you won't."

Knowing that was true made it so much worse. If Puck had been tied down or cuffed or otherwise restrained, it would have been different, but as it was… "I can't," he warned again.

"Can't what?" Finn asked quietly. Puck felt the pressure of Finn's hand on his back, and he flinched at the touch.

"Can't deal with it. Can't hold still, not all by myself."

"It's going to be hard," Carl promised him. "And it's going to hurt. Sometimes, it's going to hurt more than you can possibly imagine. But you're going to stay right here, and we're going to help you deal with it. Just stay right here, and look right at me. Keep your eyes open."

Puck nodded, feeling them watering already. Carl nodded back.

There was a whistle, and a crack, not impressive like the cracker on Carl's signal whip, but insignificant, like a branch snapping. Puck felt the blow, and the heat of it, blooming over his backside. And then, finally, the pain. He bellowed, the sound ripped out of him like claws digging into a wound.

"That's one," Carl said. "Right here, come on. Stay focused."

The second one sounded the same, but the pain was redoubled. Puck wouldn't have believed it possible. He let out another cry, grateful for the mid-morning safety of the empty house. Nobody would worry about the noises he was making.

"Two," said Carl. He grasped Puck's hands. "Don't try to fight it. Finn, stay high up on his buttocks; don't let the strokes go too low on his thighs."

Stroke three and four came in quick succession. Puck heard Carl counting, but he barely knew what to do with such pain. The words  _don't try to fight it_  were meaningless. He was just trying to  _exist._

"Oh my god oh my god," he whimpered, "I'm going to pass out."

"You're on the bed. It would be a safe place to do that." Another whistle- _crack,_  and Puck wailed. "Five. One more. Right here, Puck, look at me."

Through the fog of pain and tears, he saw the set of Carl's jaw, the intensity of his gaze. It occurred to him that Carl had taken time out of his own busy morning, had probably rescheduled appointments and postponed other activities, to come here to Kurt's house and coach Finn through this. Just as Shelby had left school to drive him all the way back to Lima. The pain was great, but in that moment, it was overwhelmed by the guilt and gratitude he had for every one of the people in his life.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, grasping for Carl's hands. "Thank you, and — I'm sorry."

Finn paused, the last stroke falling useless onto the bed. He took a slow breath and let it out. "He's done."

"He's done," Carl agreed, "but you're not. Follow through. You said six; make it six." He smiled at Puck, holding his hands. "Almost there."

Puck nodded, and kept his eyes open through the last stroke, but as soon as Finn said, "All right," he dropped from his knees to flat on his stomach, shaking with reaction.

Carl nodded, giving his hands one last squeeze, and backed away. "Let him feel it. Don't be in a hurry to touch the skin. Give it some air."

Finn moved into the space in front of him where Carl had been, gently touching his face, his cuffed wrists, his head. Puck could see the sweat beaded along Finn's collarbone with startling clarity.

"That was hard," he murmured, resting his cheek on the bed.

"Yeah, but you got through it."

"No, I mean - for you. It was hard for you."

Finn blew out a breath. "I remember thinking that same thing when Carl was done with me. It wasn't hard like — like when we fought this winter. This, what I did, it doesn't feel bad. I know you could have stopped it."

Puck blinked. "I never even thought about  _stopping_  it."

"I know." He looked up at Carl, standing by the door. "You have to go?"

"I have appointments all morning, so my cell phone will be off, but call Angela if you need to reach me. She knows she should put you through to me if you have any questions. I really need to find your family a kink-friendly physician. He responded well to the arnica cream before, so stick with that, after about fifteen minutes, and ibuprofen later if he needs it. He might need gauze. And water - lots of it. I set some by the side of the bed, there." Puck felt Carl rest a hand on his ankle. "Kurt will want to confine any further impact to his thighs until the welts are completely healed."

_Welts,_  Puck thought dreamily. The door closed. Finn unbuckled the cuffs on Puck's wrists and helped him fold his stiff arms into his chest.

"You didn't kiss him," he said.

"What?"

"Carl. You didn't kiss him goodbye, tell him you love him."

He looked away. "We don't do that."

"You should," Puck said.

"You really want to tell me what I should do in my relationship?" Finn said gruffly.

"I just know you. You like that stuff."

Finn reached down and pulled the cotton blanket from the foot of the bed over Puck. "That's not the kind of relationship we have. He's not going to pretend it's normal."

"Normal?" Puck scoffed.

"Never mind. How're you feeling?"

"Like somebody beat me with a cane." Puck winced as he rolled onto his side. "Hurts like a motherfucker."

"I remember," Finn said. "Way to kill a buzz, huh? I'm gonna put this cream stuff on in a little bit, and then Carl said you'd probably sleep once the adrenaline wore off." He glanced at the window. "You want to call Adam? It's after one in Stockholm."

"I want you," Puck said. Finn flushed, looking back in surprise.

"Okay," he said, after a moment of hesitation. "I'm not sure how —?"

"I mean, I just want you to stay with me. Unless you've suddenly got plans."

Finn settled on the floor next to his bed, resting his head close beside Puck's on the mattress. "I think maybe I was wrong about you being done."

"No," Puck said quickly, "sorry. I don't mean to be, you know. I'm done. Sir."

Finn was smiling a little. "I believe you. And I don't have any other plans. I'm sticking around all day."

Now that all the shit had been cleared away, it was easier not to feel guilty, and to simply appreciate what people were giving him. He smiled back. "Thanks." He touched Finn's fingers with his own. "Tess said she was going to pay for the tire debt, and I'd owe her instead."

"Jesus," Finn breathed. "That's… really? I don't even know what to say."

"Yeah. She told me I couldn't say no, that she was going to take it on. Because I belonged to her."

Finn didn't look surprised at the statement. "I guess that's how it's going to be, then?"

"Taking it on. That's what you were doing for me this morning. What Carl did for you, by coming here."

Finn used the edge of the blanket to mop the sweat off Puck's forehead. "I  _want_  to do stuff for you. I mean, I get wanting to serve, and that's cool, I'm not saying it's not. But sometimes we get to take care of you, too. Can't it be a balance?"

Puck didn't bother to try to hide the fresh tears. The welts on his backside were throbbing, and he felt raw and exposed in every possible way. "I like it. I really like it. It's just different, going from nobody doing anything for me to…  _everybody_  doing things for me. Sometimes I'm not gonna know what to do with that."

"We'll deal with it," Finn said. "Just… the next time you think we're having telepathic communication or whatever, maybe you could come and check with me? To make sure."

"Yes, sir," Puck said emphatically.

Finn fed him some water from the bottle Carl had left by the bed. It dribbled over his chin, but it hardly mattered, the bed was already soaked with perspiration.

"I don't think I can sleep yet," he told Finn.

"I don't know if you're really going to be able to concentrate on anything right now. I could read to you." He rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a square book. "Me and Kurt, we've been reading this story about Griffin and Sabine. It's weird, but kind of compelling."

"Sounds like my thing." Puck watched as Finn opened the book and turned to a picture of a postcard. He was pretty sure he'd listen to anything Finn wanted to read him. At the moment, it felt like exactly the right thing to do.

He wasn't aware of falling asleep, but he woke up to stinging pain some time later, feeling Finn applying something cool and wet to his skin. Finn shushed his halfhearted protests and he slipped back into sleep almost immediately, relaxing under the mantle of Finn's protection.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Cheerios practice, Kurt overhears a conversation between Dave and Matt, then comes home to take care of Puck. Puck tells Finn about what he'd learned from Davis about the legality of living together at the Hummel house. Mercedes and Quinn talk about the boys. Puck helps Rachel clean up after Vocal Adrenaline throw eggs on her. Toby gets an answer about his health status. While Kurt is performing at Cheerios Nationals, Frances and Sarah go to their first middle school dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Resolution of the Dave arc begins now. If you haven't figured out what's going on yet, consider that I had to come up with a reason that Matt's character and Coach Tanaka's characters both left the show at the same time. Consider, also, how much of a different person Kurt is in the Donutverse because of his experiences with Puck and Adam. His interaction with Dave would have been drastically different. 
> 
> Oh, and in a moment of rare canon non-compliance, I liked the conversation on the show between Mercedes and Quinn about racism and anger, but I ditched it in favor of a completely different conversation. Enjoy. 
> 
> -amy

Kurt was still enough of an anomaly on the Cheerios that he had plenty of opportunities to observe and reflect. Specifically, on the differences between the way Mr. Schue, Toby and Coach Sylvester taught. Mr. Schue tended to work from inspiration, sharing his enthusiasm and passion for music and performance, and absolutely refused to give up on them, no matter how badly his lessons failed. Even this week, when all of them seemed to be a little angry and depressed, he was still pushing them to try, to aspire. Toby's method, on the other hand, seemed to be to listen and watch, and make small adjustments from wherever they were to point them in the right direction, with a careless optimism that left Kurt breathless sometimes.

But Coach Sylvester was tough, and mean, and permitted no mistakes. She wielded her words, not like Carl's whip, but like Adam's paddle - giving careless, copious swats that sometimes made the recipient jump to follow directions and sometimes provoked anger or tears. Most days, at least one girl or boy was crying by the end of practice.

_And they still come back,_  he marveled, watching the girls construct their pyramid for the fifteenth time while Coach Sylvester barked commands and insults.  _They don't all love her, but they all listen. And many of them worship her._  It felt like just another example of noticing how the things he was doing in his life were already happening in the world. The coach was in control, and her Cheerios liked it that way.

"Hummel," she called, and he trotted over to stand in place beside the microphone. "Wait for your cue. Lopez, Brueger, my grandmother could do deeper knee bends than that. All right — let's go."

Kurt launched into "Priere Payenne" with enthusiasm. He had choreography on some of the other routines, and even got to twirl a baton in one of them —  _that_  was a skill he never thought he'd use again — but this number was mostly him and his voice, surrounded by Cheerios, for fourteen and a half solid minutes. It still seemed almost too good to be true that Coach Sylvester had asked him to take over Mercedes' part after she'd quit the Cheerios.

The weirdest thing was how easily the rest of the squad had accepted this as normal. There had been no discernible jealousy, even from Santana, as he became the star. He walked out of most rehearsals feeling drained, vaguely used, and determined to come back tomorrow at his absolute best. It was not an unfamiliar feeling, but not one he'd expected to be finding at  _school._

"We've got three days, people," the Coach bawled into her megaphone. "You walk on the field and perform like that, the judges are going to need Poise pads in their underwear, they're going to be laughing so hard. Back tomorrow at six am sharp. If you're on time…"

"… You're late," the squad chorused in exhausted voices. They began to disperse into clumps of two and three.

"I want to see all the male Cheerios for ten minutes, right now," said the Coach. "We're going to deal with this issue of just where you hold your lift partner so she doesn't squeal, laugh or sue you." She flicked her hand at Kurt. "Not you, Hummel, you're in a class by yourself. You're dismissed."

Kurt was happy he didn't have to lift one of the female Cheerios, and even happier that he didn't warrant an extra ten minutes of rehearsal. He knew Puck was waiting for him with Finn at the house, and while he had no idea what to expect, he had to assume that Finn had dealt with the majority of the issue already. All that was left was for  _him_  to deal with his own feelings of anger and frustration at Puck's actions.

But the noises in the men's locker room slowed his footsteps. He hesitated outside the doorway, hearing voices echoing off the walls, raised to a fevered pitch. At first he couldn't make out any words, the overlapping voices were so distorted. But then he caught the name  _Dave,_  and he stopped where he was.

"You're not going to tell me this isn't about me," came Karofsky's voice. It was so suffused with pain and rage that Kurt would not have been able to tell it was his, if he hadn't been identified.

"It's not!" the other voice said. It was Matt Rutherford. Kurt recognized his voice only because of Glee, because otherwise Matt had mostly kept to himself in class. He was pleading. "Dave, you have to believe me, I'm so sorry it happened like this. I never meant to hurt you."

"What a load of crap!"

He could hear Matt, hissing for Dave to keep his voice down, and Dave and Matt's words descended into muffled whispers and occasional spikes of emotion. Kurt waited for just one more moment, then deliberately spilled his workout bag on the floor in the hallway, taking the opportunity to bang everything particularly hard as he put it away. The noises in the locker room ceased.

When Kurt walked in a few minutes later, Dave and Matt were on opposite sides of the room. Dave was fiddling with something in his locker. Matt gave Kurt a distracted smile before heading into the hallway. Kurt wondered for a moment if Dave was going to explode again, he was so agitated.

"Everything okay?" The words slipped out before Kurt realized he was going to say them. Dave stared at him, uncomprehending, for a few seconds, then looked away.

"It's fine," he muttered.

The response was so familiar, Kurt almost smiled.  _Fine don't sing like you just sung,_  his dad had said, and he was right. Whatever issues Dave and Matt were dealing with, Dave's wounded, defiant face could have been Puck's, or his own. It was a strange sensation, to feel that empathy for Dave Karofsky, and such a sense of detachment from it at the same time. He wasn't scared of Dave, not like he'd been in January. He just felt… pity. He didn't have anything to do with the situation Dave was in, but that didn't mean he couldn't help.

He kept his hands in the least threatening position he knew, hands at his side, and faced Dave. Dave took a step back, his expression hostile.

"I'm not talking to you, faggot! Get out of my face."

"If you won't tell me, at least tell somebody." He didn't try to sound nice. He kept it firm and direct, just as he would have done with Puck if he'd been showing signs of slipping into that  _not-fine_  space.

Dave blew out a breath, retreating to his locker and slamming it shut. "Whatever. Just — stay away from me."

He shoulder-checked the bank of lockers as he passed them, but the noise rang hollow to Kurt. It wasn't anger he saw in Dave's actions, it was pain. It made him wonder momentarily. By the time he'd showered and changed and was on his way home, he'd almost forgotten about it.

Kurt decided he'd better call Finn before he got there, just to check in. When Finn didn't answer his cell, he tried the house phone, and Sarah answered.

" _You want to talk to Noah?"_  she asked. She sounded irritated.  _"I don't think he's sleeping. It's been on and off since I got home. I finally told him he'd have to cope with me making dinner, and he just said yeah, okay, and that was it! I have no idea what's going on, other than he's in big trouble for something he did."_

"You might say that. I think I'll wait until I get back to talk to him. Do you need any groceries?"

" _He bought everything last week. I bet I can figure it out, even if I don't make exactly what he wrote on his menus. Are you coming home?"_

"I'm almost there," said Kurt.

" _You think you could take me up to the thrift shop in Piqua to shop for something to wear to this dance on Saturday?"_

"Oh — Sarah!" He smiled into his phone. "Yes, absolutely. I need to check in with Noah first, but I'm sure we can make it up to Piqua before the store closes."

" _After that stunt you pulled with the flannel and jeans, I wasn't sure if I was going to trust your fashion advice anymore, but I like the amber and gold swatches you chose for the basement bedroom. I'm willing to give it a shot. If everything sucks, I can find something in my closet to wear."_

"Or my closet," Kurt promised. She giggled. "See you in a few minutes."

There was no sign of either Puck or Finn when Kurt entered the basement through the garage. His room was empty, and the green couch unoccupied. He hung his cheer uniform over the towel rod in the bathroom and went upstairs to investigate.

Sarah was sitting at the dining room table, sketching. She nodded at the kitchen.

"They're in Burt's old study.  _Reading._ "

That was not what Kurt had expected to hear, but he went right in. Sure enough, Puck and Finn were both stretched out on their stomachs on the bed, their noses buried in  _Sabine's Notebook._ Puck was naked, and his entire back side was lined with gauze squares, held down with crossing strips of cloth medical tape, but he didn't look uncomfortable. Finn looked up and smiled at Kurt before returning to reading aloud the letter he held in his hand.

"I have loved you since I was thirteen," Finn read, "when first I saw your hand moving across that sheet of paper. I have loved you in every manner that my imagination could contrive. I have wanted you so deeply that my body sang with pain and pleasure. You have been my obsession, my passion, my philosophers' stone of fantasy. You are my desire, my longing, my spirit. I love you unconditionally. Do you hear me, Griffin? Do you see that—" Finn paused to drag the back of his hand across his nose, and continue, a little wobbly. "That I cherish you beyond question, that you have nothing to prove to me? You are making your journey to secure yourself. I am already tethered to your side. If you can love yourself as I love you, there will be no dislocation - you will be whole."

Whatever anger Kurt had been hanging on to melted away in the face of Finn reading Sabine's words, and Puck's rapt, attentive face. He sat on the edge of the bed. Puck attempted to scoot toward the wall to make room for him, but Finn held Puck still with a hand in the center of his back.

"Stay there," he said. Puck subsided, nodding, and remained where he was. Kurt relaxed a little more.

"Bring yourself home to me," Finn continued reading, "and I will immerse you in every ounce of tenderness I possess. Sabine." He sighed, folding the letter and tucking it back into the envelope on the page.

Puck reached over and poked him. "I told you, you love that stuff," he said, grinning. "Don't try to tell me you don't care."

"I didn't say I didn't," Finn protested. "Just that it's not as simple as that."

Kurt leaned down and kissed Finn's cheek. "In the story, Griffin struggles to respond in kind. He says  _you shame me,_  but I think he's just feeling overwhelmed. And read what he says about loving Sabine."

Puck turned the page to read the back of Griffin's postcard, screwing up his face in concentration. "Of course I love  _you,"_  he read slowly. "As for liking myself, possibly I can ach- achieve that when I'm less prone to bouts of self-pity." He laughed to himself, looking sheepishly up at Kurt. "Yeah. It's a lot easier to be nice to other people when I'm not beating myself up inside."

Finn shifted onto his back, closing the book and letting it drop off the mattress onto the floor. He opened his arms to Kurt, who settled against his chest. "How come these books are so much better than the romance stuff in chick flicks?"

"Because they hurt," Kurt said. "And it's messy and confusing, like real life."

"Don't tell me how it ends," Puck said. He crept over, resting his head on Finn's chest on the other side, and took Kurt's hand. "But maybe after dinner we can read some more."

Kurt gazed into Puck's heartbreakingly lovely eyes, seeing nothing but clarity and calm. "I came home expecting to need to discipline you, Noah. Do you think I need to do that?"

"Yeah," he said. "I wouldn't mind if you waited until my ass stopped bleeding first, but…" He sighed. "Yes, please, sir?"

Kurt leaned across Finn and kissed Puck, appreciating the noises from both of them. "That's a promising answer. Anything else?"

Puck nodded. "I don't feel so bad for making this your problem anymore. I'm really hoping next time isn't so  _expensive,_  but… I'm not gonna let it stay in my head, even if I'm sure it's a good plan. And I'm sorry, and thank you."

"And Carl said you could just focus on his thighs and the unmarked areas," Finn added, playing with Kurt's hair. Kurt laughed.

"I don't think there's any hurry for me to take my turn. It sounds like the two of you already had a productive day."

Puck was already half-asleep, his lids drooping closed as he rested on Finn. He and Kurt withdrew from beneath him and climbed carefully out of the bed, one at a time. Finn checked the bandages before pulling the blanket up over him. Puck smiled sleepily up at the two of them before letting his eyes close again. They turned off the lights before retreating to the kitchen.

"I'm not sure how I feel about him needing bandages for what you did," Kurt admitted, hugging Finn. "But he looks so much better."

"He said a lot of stuff. About you, about everybody. About Shelby, and his dad. He's still got a few apologies to make, but he called Mr. Schue and Shelby already."

"I kept wondering how he was all day, and being angrier and angrier, and then I came in here and it was just — gone." Kurt shook his head. "I'm not going to discipline him. If it's for me, I don't need it, and if it's for him, looking at the way he is right now, I don't think  _he_  needs it."

Finn tightened his arm around Kurt. "As long as you're not trying to let him off easy. You know that doesn't help. And you can come to me whenever you're feeling stressed or worried about Puck being Puck. We can get him back to Noah again."

Kurt felt the calm of Finn's words settle over him. "Thank you," he said, kissing him. "It feels so much more possible when I know you're doing it with me. Now, I'm going to take Sarah to complete one of the landmark events of adolescence: shopping for a dress for her first dance."

Finn looked positively alarmed. "She's going to a dance? Isn't she kind of young for that?"

"She might be, but she's going anyway. And I suspect, knowing Sarah, that anything having to do with boys will be met with icy disdain."

"Yeah." Finn was mollified. "That's probably true. She's pretty sensible."

Kurt smiled. "Finn, of all of us in this household, I wouldn't trust anyone more than Sarah to show good judgment in the face of adolescent stupidity."

* * *

Stocking shelves at Sheets'N'Things wasn't the most completely mind-numbing activity Finn could imagine, but he was pretty sure it was in the top ten. It didn't help that Mrs. Ex-Schuester was so controlling about just how the merchandise looked on the shelves, how it was stacked, how many inches back from the edge of the shelf it should be. After his fifth failure to fold a sham, she took it away from him and told him to pile boxes on the topmost shelves.

"You've got to be good for something," she reasoned. That was pretty much all the evidence Finn needed about why Mr. Schue had divorced her.

Puck was more than willing to take orders, but watching him take them from  _her_  was enough to piss Finn off. He gritted his teeth as Puck diligently followed Mr. Ryerson's directions to turn up the muzak and Mrs. Ex-Schuester's command to restock the space heaters.

"I don't think I can make Burt's study my bedroom," he said to Finn.

"Because people can hear what you're doing in there?" Finn grimaced. "I guess I can understand that. It's not all that private."

"No, no, not because of that. I could work around that. It's because of the laws."

"What laws?" Finn asked.

Puck reached to deposit another space heater on top of the stack. "The Ohio ones about families. They say you can only have a certain number of kids in a room, and after they're six they boys and girls aren't allowed together. And nobody gets to sleep in the basement."

Finn frowned. "But Kurt's room is in the basement. And Sarah's."

"I know. Nobody would care, if Burt wasn't trying to do the foster care thing, right? I mean, nobody's going to break into your home and say,  _you can't sleep in that room, it doesn't have an egress window._  But foster care people do home inspections." He nodded seriously. "I checked with Davis. Sarah has to be sleeping in the upstairs room, with my daughter. The rest of us… I don't know what we're going to do."

Finn leaned uneasily against the shelf. "Do you think my mom knows about this? Or Burt?"

"I think they both know, and they're trying to figure it out, but what are they going to do? You can't magically make enough bedrooms appear for all of us. I think the only thing we can do is keep living at two houses."

Finn snuck into the back room on his break and used Mrs. Ex-Schuester's computer to look up information about what Puck had said. Sure enough, that seemed to be what the laws implied: no bedrooms in the basement.

He didn't bring it up with Puck again, but when Mrs. Ex-Schuester caught him sitting at her computer and got suspicious, he quickly wiped his browser history and went to Spotify.

"I'm looking for a song for my Glee assignment," he told her. "I need a funk song."

She thought for a moment. "How about that Good Vibrations one? Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch. Can you two rap?"

"Uh… no?"

She patted his arm. "I bet you'd be fine. Give it a try."

Listening to the song in the Navigator on the way home from work, Puck was definitely on Mrs. Ex-Schuester's side. "We could do it," he said, grinning.

"Yeah, don't be totally mad at me if I don't exactly trust your judgment at the moment," said Finn.

Puck didn't appear to be offended, though he squirmed a little on his seat. "Mercedes would do the  _good vibrations_  part. Tell me she wouldn't."

"She might," Finn agreed. "Especially now that you two are friends. Probably a better choice than Rachel."

"Uh,  _yeah."_  Puck shrugged. "Anyway. If I'm going to do any assignment, it might as well be awesome. And this would be awesome."

Finn wondered exactly how Puck could bring up something completely scary and awful, like the thing about the bedroom law, and then appear to stop caring about it fifteen minutes later. When  _he_  worried about something, it consumed him all the time until he resolved it. Unfortunately, this didn't appear to be the kind of thing he could resolve without grown-up help. The only thing he could do was keep worrying about it.

"Maybe it would be fun," Finn said. At the very least it might be a way to blow off some steam. "All right. You text Mercedes. We'll see if she's up for helping us out."

* * *

Will called Toby as soon as Sue walked out and slammed his apartment door.

"Talk to me," he said, grimacing. "I feel a little unclean right now. After the stunt I pulled today, I'm not sure  _I_ want to know me."

" _What's happening now, darlin'?"_  Toby asked.

Will settled on the edge of the armrest of the couch. "You sound exhausted. More than me, and that's saying something."

" _Well, that's what happens when you suddenly have to re-rewrite the choreography you rewrote a couple months ago to accommodate the return of one missing singer."_

"Please don't tell me you're complaining." Will rolled his eyes and rubbed his neck. "Jesse may well win it for Vocal Adrenaline."

" _I was fairly certain we were going to win without him, Will. But that's neither here nor there. He's here, and we're usin' him. And trust me, whatever happened to him while he was at McKinley changed him. He's pissed."_

"I'm feeling my share of pissed right now, myself. After what Puck pulled, I wasn't sure if I should even attempt to keep trying to lead them to victory. But then it occurred to me, I don't really have to fight Vocal Adrenaline."

" _No?"_  asked Toby curiously.  _"What do you have to fight?"_

"The demons in front of me. Namely one Sue Sylvester. It's the  _way_  I've been fighting her that's been leaving me feeling a little on the oogy side."

" _I think I can interpret 'oogy.' Should I ask what you did, or do I not want to know?"_

"No, I'll tell you," he sighed. "I attempted to seduce her with music. Well, okay, and my ass."

Toby coughed.  _"Did it work?"_  he asked offhandedly.

"It worked, all right. I asked her on a date and then stood her up, and she came over to my apartment to yell at me. Which she was entirely within her rights to do, so I didn't fight back too hard."

" _So — wait. You tried to seduce her so you could… what? Embarrass her?"_

"Have some  _influence,_ " Will insisted. "Be the manipulator instead of the manipulatee for a change. I'm sick of being the one who gets screwed when things go wrong. For once, I want to be doing the screwing."

He heard Toby laugh.  _"Why, darlin,'"_  he said flirtatiously,  _"you know all you have to do is ask."_

Will flopped down onto the couch and sighed. "I'm serious."

" _Will,"_  Toby said, now without a trace of a laugh,  _"so am I. If you want to be in charge, you've got to make that clear. Clear as in no games, no tricks. Just lay it out there."_

Will grinned. "Yeah? Can I tell you what a total turn-on it is when you talk teacher to me?"

" _Yeah."_  Toby sounded smug.  _"I know."_

"So you think you could manage to get your kids back to McKinley on Friday for a response to their challenge? A musical response. Like you said, no tricks, no games."

" _I think we could arrange a bus. The Range Rovers won't have their new tires for another week."_

"Poor babies," Will cooed. Toby snickered.

" _I never said they weren't spoiled and stuck up. They're also incredibly skilled, Will. I hope you're being clear with your students about how likely it is they're going to lose at Regionals."_

"They've known that all along. I think the best thing I can do for them is to give them a reason to keep trying."

He could hear Toby's fond smile.  _"Darlin,' they already have a reason."_

"So." Will let himself slide off the arm of the couch onto his back. "I'm assuming no word from your doctor yet."

" _Not yet. I promise I'll call you as soon as I know. Oh, but me and Kurt, we had a good time at the AIDS walk this weekend in Columbus. Your donations went to a good cause. And I had a hell of a surprise."_

"Yeah?" He cradled the phone closer to his cheek. "What happened?"

" _My sister was there."_

"Your sister? For real?" Will smiled. "Am I correct in assuming you hadn't seen her since you left home, what, fifteen years ago? Wow. That's incredible. Which one, Grace or Natalie?"

" _Nope. Neither one. My other sister. I used to know her as Luke, but she's LeeAnne now."_

"Oh!" He paused, uncertain what to say. "Were you surprised?"

" _Well, like I told her, I think I knew in my heart she was one of those letters in the quiltbag? I'd just made the assumption it was the G, not the T. But we had a nice talk at Irene's after the walk. She's in Louisville now, working in retail. I'm right proud of her. We're gonna stay in touch."_ Toby's sounded sad.  _"She said our daddy passed away."_

Will sighed. "Toby, I'm so sorry."

" _Yeah, well, I can't say I'm ever gonna miss him. But she's still talkin' with Grace and Natalie, pretty regular. Maybe I'll give them a call."_

"I'd hold your hand while you did it, baby," Will said.

" _I know you would. You always get me out of my funk, darlin'. Speakin' of that, you keep an eye on Kurt, okay? He's got some challenges, and they ain't all named Noah Puckerman. And stop tryin' to seduce your coworkers, all right? That ass of yours don't take no prisoners."_

* * *

Mercedes sat down across from Quinn with a pointed expression, waiting, until Quinn set down her pen and sighed.

"It might not have been a funk song," Quinn said quietly, "but you guys sounded great today."

"I don't know why Mr. Schue cares what kind of song we're singing, to be honest. We should be polishing our songs for Regionals, not fooling around with new stuff." She shrugged. "It was fun, watching the guys do their white-boy rap. I didn't know Finn could dance like that."

Quinn's smile was faint. "I remember in elementary school, he went through a breakdancing phase. That was back when he was friends with Dave Karofsky."

Mercedes eyes bugged out. "Karofsky? Seriously?"

"They were best friends. I can't remember exactly what happened, but at some point they started yelling at each other a lot, and Dave got pretty mean." Quinn smiled ruefully. "I guess I can understand why he might have done that."

"You got pretty mean," Mercedes said. Quinn nodded, looking at her hands.

"I'd like to say it feels pointless and irrelevant now that I have this life growing inside me, but… to tell you the truth, I feel  _more_  mean now that I've gone back to — I mean, now that I've seen how it feels to be called fat and ugly every day. And worse."

Mercedes scowled. "You know we'd have your back. Just like we did with Kurt, and Puck."

"It's not the same for me. I need to… do it on my own, if I want to stay on top. I can't lean on anyone else." She shook her head. "It's only another two months. And then I can put it behind me."

"And Puck will be the papa," Mercedes said softly.

"That… is somewhat terrifying," Quinn admitted. "Thank god he has Finn and Kurt." She laughed. "I can't believe I'm saying that. What a completely weird relationship."

"But isn't it better for the baby to stay with her real dad? Even if it's hard?"

Quinn shook her head slowly. "I don't think I believe that. I think the baby should have a parent who's capable and willing to give her what she needs. All babies, but especially this one." She set a hand on her belly. "She's bumping around in there all the time now. You can feel, if you want."

Mercedes gingerly put a hand on the swell above Quinn's stomach, snatching it back as she felt the movement. Quinn laughed.

"That's kind of creepy," Mercedes said.

"Finn calls her Thumper." She was still smiling. "I don't know what Puck calls her."

Mercedes smiled back. "He calls her his daughter. How about you? Do you have a name picked out?"

"That's up to Puck." She paused, a look of realization coming over her face. "Oh my god."

"Maybe we should enlist the other guys in this," Mercedes agreed. "Not that Kurt would be any better at naming her. We could make it a group effort."

She raised an eyebrow. "Glee Names the Baby?"

Mercedes replaced her hand on Quinn's belly. This time, she left it there, feeling the thumps with growing fascination. "Somebody needs to take care of these guys. They obviously can't manage it themselves."

"I don't know," said Quinn. "I think they take care of each other pretty well."

* * *

Puck was the first one to hear Rachel's screams in the parking lot. He came barreling out of the door to see her covered with raw egg, desperately trying to keep it from dripping in her mouth.

"Jesse," she sobbed, "and Chandra and the other V-Vocal Adrenaline kids."

"Those fuckers." He pulled off his shirt and handed it to her, helping her wipe off her face. With one arm, he guided her inside. "You want me to get Kurt? He's good at this stuff. He helped clean me up when I got slushied."

Rachel seemed to be too distressed to make any kind of decision, so Puck cleared their way through the hall and ushered her inside the closest bathroom. The girls inside shrieked and scattered, complaining at the sight of Puck, but within seconds the bathroom was empty.

He began to pick shells off her, helping her out of her sticky cardigan. "Lemme get a chair so you can lean over the sink."

She sniffled. "You can say it."

"Say what?" He dumped her cardigan in the next sink over and ran water over it.

" _I told you so._ You were right. Jesse was nothing but a jerk. This whole time, he was just trying to use me to weaken Glee."

"Is that what he said? In the parking lot?"

"No." She sat in the chair and let him tip her head back into the sink. "He said… he said he loved me."

"What else?"

"That was all." She looked up at him pitifully. "You think he does? Or did?"

"I don't think it matters right now," he said, combing through her hair with his fingers. "He screwed you over. Whatever he wants to say next, it had better start with an apology. Anything less isn't worth your time."

"You're a really good friend, Noah," said Rachel.

"I kind of went overboard with the tires," he said. "But I think we can't just let this go."

"What do you think we should do?"

He leaned over and turned off the water, helping her sit up and wring out her hair. "I think we should keep an eye on Vocal Adrenaline until Regionals. A close eye."

She nodded decisively. "You mean spy on them."

"Yeah. It's a long drive to Akron, but I think we can assume they're pulling out all the stops, now that they have Jesse again. We need to be prepared for whatever else they've got coming." He put on a regretful face. "I can't go out there myself, not after the tire thing. But you could go."

Puck hoped this wasn't another mistake. He'd even considered bringing it to Finn and asking  _is it okay if I tell Rachel she's Shelby's daughter?_ but this seemed like a reasonably harmless suggestion. In any case, it would definitely get Rachel and Shelby together in a place where she might hear Shelby singing, and give Rachel a chance to put the pieces together herself.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get to Glee and you can tell them what happened."

As Puck had expected, the rest of Glee club was as pissed as he'd been about the egging. But when he tried to marshal their forces to fight back, Finn stopped him.

"This is bullshit!" Puck protested.

Finn sighed. "Yeah, right, it's time for less talking and more punching? You really want to go all Braveheart on Vocal Adrenaline? How did that turn out for you the last time? We can't break the rules and expect to win."

Mr. Schue wouldn't let them walk out the door anyway. "You guys, violence is never the answer."

Puck fumed. "Oh, it is when the question is the best way to mess up that Jesse kid's  _face."_

"Mr. Schue," said Kurt, looking determined, "Rachel's one of us. We can't let them get away with humiliating her."

"We're not going to," Mr. Schue promised. "Rachel, dial Jesse's number on your phone." He took the phone out of her hand and put it to his ear. "Jesse St. James? Will Schuester here. You and Vocal Adrenaline need to meet at our auditorium, Friday, three sharp."

Rachel nodded gratefully as he handed the phone back. "You think we can show them their weaknesses?"

"I think they already know their weaknesses," Mr. Schue said. "Toby can't break years of tradition in one semester. Vocal Adrenaline is a highly trained machine. It's up to us to funk up their engine. Let's get to work. Quinn, you and Tina are in charge of costumes - the funkier the better, and keep in mind our budget is minimal. Brittany, Mike, we're going to need some loose, energetic choreography. The rest of you, let's put our heads together and pick a real funk song."

The buzz in the room was infectious. Puck didn't even have to lean on his still-sore ass to stay focused. But before they got very far, Mr. Schue called the group back together.

"I want to make sure we do this, before we get too involved in our work." He turned to Kurt. "We've got a few champions in our midst. No matter what happens this weekend at cheerleading Nationals, I want to make sure I acknowledge Santana, Brittany and Kurt for their amazing hard work. You've put in a ton of effort for both Glee and the Cheerios, and I want you to know I'm proud of you."

Puck watched Kurt's face break into a surprised smile as everyone applauded and cheered. He sidled up next to Kurt and gave him a kiss on the cheek, which just made him blush more.

"Noah," he protested.

"Kurt, are we going to get a private performance next week of your Celine Dion medley?" Mr. Schue asked.

"I — I suppose?" Kurt was completely flustered, but he nodded. "Yes, of course. I'd be happy to sing."

"We'll plan for it on Monday in Glee. All right, all of you, get to work."

Puck waited until school was over to call Shelby. He could hear her issuing orders across the room to students, but she dropped her voice to say,  _"Well, Noah, Jesse just informed me we'll be making yet another trip to McKinley this Friday afternoon?"_

"We're not going to take this lying down," he said. "Rachel didn't deserve public humiliation."

" _I agree, it was awful, but you know why he chose to do it."_

Puck paused, realizing. "He wanted her to hate him."

" _He wasn't going to let her go on pining for him. This way, it's a clean break, and Rachel can be justified in her decision to forget about him, no matter how she feels. She wasn't going to let go if he was still a nice guy in her head."_

"Yeah, I guess not. She's motivated to spy on you guys now. You might want to do some extra singing in front of your kids, just in case she's watching."

" _Noah…"_  She sighed.  _"You don't have to help with this."_

He grinned. "You gonna tell me I can't? Yeah, maybe I don't agree with the way you did it, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to have your back."

" _All right."_  She sounded reluctant, but pleased.

"I won't bother to tell you about the number Finn did on my ass."

" _Noah,"_  Shelby said severely.

"All right, all right," he said. "I can have boundaries. I'll see you tomorrow?"

" _Mr. Grey will be coming with the kids to McKinley. He has Friday off, but this'll be another working weekend for me. And yourself?"_

"Kurt's got cheerleader Nationals this weekend. Finn'll be in Columbus with… two other guys. My sister's going to a dance with some friends. I think I'll be cleaning the house and trying to stay out of trouble." He paused. "Did you give him the cake?"

" _It's waiting in the teacher's lounge, all frosted, waiting for me to pipe the right words on top. Not that I know what kind of words might be appropriate, either way."_

"It's cake, though."

" _Yeah, that's what I decided. Better awkward cake than no cake."_

Kurt met Puck by the Navigator, still smiling.

"That was really nice of Mr. Schue," he said. "He didn't have to say anything, considering the rivalry between him and Coach Sylvester. I have a feeling he had something to do with getting her out of bed this week and back at practices, too." He leaned in and gave Puck a long, lingering kiss, then handed him the keys. "I'll be home as early as I can, but I'm assuming tonight will go late again."

Puck nodded. "Shelby said Toby will be here tomorrow with Vocal Adrenaline. I was thinking about making dinner for her and having him take it back. She's working too hard."

"You," said Kurt, tapping Puck's chest, "are too nice. Even if you did threaten to beat up Jesse."

" _Nice,_  huh?" He grinned. "Well, I guess I can trust you to keep it a secret. I wouldn't want to ruin my reputation."

* * *

Will kept quiet in the wings while the Glee club did their funk number, but it wasn't wasn't easy. He just waited there, watching them strut with pride afterwards, while their accompanists from jazz band chattered excitedly about Vocal Adrenaline's reaction and took bets on New Directions' revised odds at Regionals.

"Not bad, Mr. Schuester," drawled a familiar voice. He turned, his smile growing, to see Toby emerge from the shadows.

"Well met, Mr. Grey," he nodded. "Your kids listened very respectfully."

"I don't think they expected to see much to be concerned about." Toby's eyes twinkled.

"How'd you find me? I thought I was doing a pretty good job of staying hidden back here."

"I had a little help from Bradley. But this is where I'd go to watch my kids, too." He hesitated, then added, "I've got some news for you. For us."

Will felt his smile falter. "I — oh."

"Do you think you could meet me in your office? I want to get VA back on the bus before they start scheming about what other havoc they could wreak at McKinley, but I can be back in a jiffy."

Will nodded, his mouth too dry to say more. He watched Toby usher his silent, discouraged students out to the parking lot, then turned off the auditorium lights and joined a jubilant Glee club in the choir room.

"We turned that mother  _out,"_  Puck boasted, giving Will a high-five. He smiled back, but Puck saw behind it anyway. He stopped where he was and looked at Will's face. "Was it— did he —?"

"I don't know," Will said quickly. "I'm supposed to meet him here after he gets Vocal Adrenaline back on the bus."

Puck nodded. Then he went to the back of the choir room and brought over a cloth insulated cooler. He handed it to Will.

"Can you ask Toby to take this to Shelby?" he asked. "I mean, Ms. Corcoran?"

Will stared at him, wondering if he should ask what was going on, but Puck's honestly concerned expression made it hard for Will to do anything other than nod.

The students cleared out quickly, many offering  _good luck_  comments to Santana, Brittany and Kurt as they did so. The room was empty by the time he went into his office. He sat at his desk, leaving the door ajar.

He shuffled the same papers three times before he heard the soft knock. It propelled him up and toward the door, pulling it open.

It was probably a good thing it had  _actually_  been Toby standing there, because most other guests at William's door would not have appreciated being seized and kissed with such thorough intent. Toby made a very endearing purring noise before kicking the office door closed and kissing him back.

"I love you," Will said. "And I'm not going anywhere. Before you say anything else, I just wanted you to hear me say it."

Toby's face split in a breathtaking smile. "That's really good news," he said, "but I still think you get to be relieved when I tell you I'm negative."

"Oh, thank god," Will groaned, and hugged him tight. Toby waited patiently through his display of emotion, as he always did, giving him little affectionate kisses.

"I know this was a fluke," Toby said. "Jon thought he was negative. And tests ain't always accurate. But there's gonna always be the risk of this happening again. I think either I confine my sexual experiences to one fella, namely  _you,_  or you tell me this kind of risk is okay."

Will shook his head with a sigh. "Toby, I think… it would be a mistake, asking you to do that. A mistake for both of us. You'd get restless, and I'd get to watch you slowly grow to resent me. I'm not going to ask you to change your behavior. I think it's… as safe as life gets." He ran his fingers over Toby's jaw. "I might ask that you get a little more aggressive with new partners —  _about testing,_ Toby. About testing."

Toby was laughing. "You don't have to tell me twice, darlin'. I've been right spooked. All the millions of eligible young gay fellas in Ohio will be waitin' for a while until I take that chance again. Now, I'd better go. The charter bus driver gets paid by the hour."

"Hang on." Will reached over and picked up the handle of the cooler, passing it to Toby. "This is for Ms. Corcoran, from Puck. Any idea what's going on there? I was thinking it might be a peace offering after slashing her tires, but he called her  _Shelby."_

"Yeah, she assures me there's nothin' untoward happening between them. I'm not sure what to think." Toby took the cooler and gave Will one more kiss before ducking out the door. "I'll bring this to her. Let me know how Kurt does at Nationals tomorrow."

* * *

"You mean he's  _singing_  at a cheerleading competition?" Frances wrinkled her nose as she slid her headband carefully over her curls. Her baby-fine hair was determined to thwart the curlers her mother had used earlier, but she'd put some hair spray on them. Frances was trying not to move around too rapidly.

"I told you, he's their secret weapon," Sarah explained. She swung her legs off the edge of Frances' desk. She was wearing black and white striped tights, the kind that only went up to the tops of her slim thighs, and had to keep pulling them up. Her skirt was long enough to cover the worst of the droopy parts, but it made Frances anxious to think that she might be doing that all night.

"They're going to win because of his singing?"

"I think they're going to win because they practice thirty hours a week," Sarah clarified. "But I also think Kurt's voice will definitely get them noticed. Are you going to paint your nails?"

"I already painted them." Frances held up her hands, inspecting the pale pink polish, to match her pale pink dress and pale pink strappy shoes. They weren't heels, but they weren't ordinary ballet flats either, and they made her feel kind of grown-up in a way that also didn't feel bad. Even the dress wasn't awful, even if it was pink. It was simple and not too short and had no ruffles or lace of any kind. It didn't really go with her jewelry, but there was no way she was taking off the amber necklace Sarah had given her for Christmas.

Sarah's dress was amazing. It was the kind of bright red that Frances never wore, with big black polkadots all over it and a wide black belt around the waist. The skirt stood out on an angle, thanks partly to the amount of fabric and partly to the slip underneath it. She'd done something completely baffling with her hair, something Sarah called "pin curls," which made her hair look short and elegant. At the moment, she was frowning at Frances.

"I can't even see the nail polish. What's the point of wearing it if nobody can see it?" She swung her legs harder, bumping her heels against the desk. "Would your dad let us at least  _check_  the Columbus news channel to see if -"

"I told you," she said, "he's watching baseball, which means it's not up for negotiation. The Pirates versus the Phillies."

"At the commercials, then. I'll ask him, you don't have to do anything."

Frances wasn't sure how to explain that it wasn't that her dad would object to them checking something on the television during a commercial, but that he would have lots of curious questions about why Sarah's foster  _brother_  was a cheerleader. Frances didn't quite understand it herself, but she definitely didn't feel ready to explain it to her father, and imagining Sarah doing that was enough to give her a panic attack. Heaven knew what Sarah might end up saying.

"You'll find out how it went when you get home." She tried to change the subject. "What songs is he singing?"

"A medley of Celine Dion songs, all in French. I don't know any of the names, but there's one about traveling on nice days, and one about… prayer, I think, but not the kind you would do at synagogue. One's about dying, or living, or something. It's probably about love, but whatever." She kicked the edge of Frances' desk with her heels until Frances glared at her and she stopped. "Sorry. Oh, there's a song that's about following your destiny, even if the traveling is lonely and tedious, I like that one. There was this one lyric. It was in French, of course, but Kurt said it meant,  _Time drips along the time zones."_  She grinned, jumping down. "Isn't that good?"

"I don't know how he could remember all those French lyrics." Frances watched Sarah yank up her tights yet again. "I can barely remember my vocabulary list for next week."

"He's been singing them since he was a kid. And now he gets to sing them in front of the whole  _state."_  She paced to the door and paused there, listening. "There's a commercial on. I'm just going to  _ask._  The worst he can do is say no, right?"

"Sarah," Frances protested, but Sarah was already down the hall. She followed with trepidation, slowly, so as not to undo the curls.

"So he's performing with the cheerleaders?" her father was asking Sarah when Frances joined them. He'd set down the remote on the couch, which seemed like a good sign.

"He mostly sings," Sarah said, "but he does cheer routines too. And baton twirling."

Frances tried not to wince. Her father looked up at her approach, and smiled, rising to his feet.

"My goodness. Don't you look beautiful, Frannie."

"Thank you," she said automatically. She wasn't embarrassed to hear her father to say that, not in the same way she would have been mortified to hear her mother say it in in front of  _anyone_. Fathers were supposed to think their daughters were beautiful, even if it wasn't true.

"And you do, too, Sarah," he added. He picked up the remote and thumbed to the channel directory. "The competition's in Columbus, you said? I think that's channel 38. Let's see what we can find."

Frances was a little surprised to discover the local news channel was covering the competition. The squad that was on camera wasn't wearing McKinley's red Cheerios uniforms, but they seemed to be very good. Her dad nodded approval.

"Well, look at that. That team has male cheerleaders, too." He pressed a button, and the channel switched back to the Pirates game. "We can check again at the next commercial, all right?"

"Thank you, but Matt Rutherford is coming to pick us up for the dance in fifteen minutes," Frances told her father.

He nodded. "You know your mother would have driven you, if you'd asked."

Frances tried very hard not to let her feelings about  _that_  show on her face.  _School your face,_  she'd heard it called. It wasn't so much about not letting others tell she was having feelings, but about not bothering people who would have found them annoying or incomprehensible. As it was, she walked with Sarah back to her room and closed the door before letting herself frown.

"He wasn't mad when I interrupted," Sarah said to her.

"No, no, it's —" She let out a frustrated sigh. "My mother.  _She's_  mad, that I don't want her to chaperone tonight. Like I really want to be around her any more than I have to? I'm very glad Danielle's brother said he would drive us."

But fifteen minutes went by, and then twenty, and twenty-five, and Matt still hadn't arrived. Sarah shuffled back and forth between Frances' room and the television, waiting impatiently for any appearance of Kurt and the Cheerios.

"Maybe I should call," Frances whispered to her, after a half-hour had gone by. "Danielle's not the kind of girl who's usually late."

Brian called her before she could pick up the phone.

" _Hey,"_  he said, sounding awkward. Frances was pretty sure he'd never called her before.  _"So Danielle told me to be ready by five-thirty. What's going on?"_

"I don't know," she said. "I was wondering the same thing five minutes ago. I think I'd better call."

" _I was trying not to… I mean, it could have been that you decided you didn't want to go, and you didn't want to tell me that, so you called Danielle and told her not to come."_

Frances was shocked. "I wouldn't do that!"

" _No, no,"_  he said quickly,  _"I know that. I do. I was just… trying not to think it anyway."_

"You're my friend, Brian." She meant it to be reassuring, but she hoped he would hear the words and take them to heart.  _Friend. Not a kissing friend._

" _Thanks. Can you call me back if you find out anything?"_

Frances agreed to do that, and immediately dialed Danielle's number. Sarah appeared in the doorway, shaking her head regretfully.

"Still nothing. Mariemont's performing right know, but they kind of suck."

"Isn't McKinley rated number one?" asked Frances. But suddenly there was a connection on the line, and Frances stopped talking abruptly. Sarah watched her face change, and slowed to a standstill.

"What?" she whispered.

Frances shook her head. She could hear somebody crying, and a whole lot of garbled yelling in the background.  _"Hello?"_ said a voice. It was too distorted for Frances to identify it.

"This is Frances," she said. "May I please speak to —?"

" _Frances,"_  whimpered the voice. It was Danielle.  _"I can't talk. It's bad. It's really bad, and I — I can't talk. I'm sorry."_

"Okay?" She wasn't sure what else to say. "Is there — can I do anything? Are you okay?" Danielle was clearly far from okay, but it was the kind of thing you could ask even if you knew there was nothing at all that someone  _could_  do for you.

The sound abruptly got quieter, as though Danielle had closed a door.

" _It's Matt,"_  she said.  _"He did a — a bad thing. A really bad thing, and… my parents are so mad, Frances."_  She was crying again.

Frances must have had some kind of awful look on her face, because Sarah moved right in close to Frances and put her arms around her waist. Sarah's skirt stood out far enough that it was hard to get close enough to touch, but she squashed right in next to her anyway. Frances immediately felt braver.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" she asked Danielle.

" _I don't think I can. I'm really sorry. I think I might - I might not see you again."_

"What do you mean you might not see me again?" The question made Sarah straighten up, alert and listening, but Frances wasn't going to stop and explain. "Is it because you were going with me to a dance? Did you explain you weren't going to do any actual dancing?"

" _It's not the dance. It's nothing to do with the dance. It's… it's way worse than that."_

"Okay," Frances said, in as calm a voice as she could manage. "We'll go to the dance, and it'll be all right for now, until we can figure out how to fix it."

" _I can't go to the dance. Matt, he… he can't go either."_  The shouting escalated in the background.  _"Frances, I have to go. I'm really, really sorry about this."_

"It's fine," she said. It obviously wasn't fine at all, but Frances could tell her feelings about the dance were pretty insignificant next to whatever Danielle was dealing with. "Call me this weekend. Or I'll see you Monday."

The line was already dead. Frances stood there, staring at the phone, feeling suddenly helpless.

"Did somebody get hurt?" Sarah asked softly. Frances shook her head.

"I don't know. I don't think so. But she can't come to the dance."

"Sarah?" Frances heard her dad call from the hallway. She opened her door to find him standing there.

"We're trying to figure something out," she told him.

He nodded. "I knew you were running late. I don't want to interrupt if you have to go, but… McKinley's on TV now. The Cheerios. I thought you'd want to know."

They went out together to the family room and sat on the couch. Kurt was front and center on the field, holding a microphone, and was singing in what sounded to Frances like flawless French:

_Je vais les routes et je vais les frontières_   
_Je sens, j'écoute, et j'apprends, je vois_   
_Le temps s'égoutte au long des fuseaux horaires  
_ _Je prends, je donne, avais-je le choix?_

Frances had no words for how she felt when she listened to Kurt sing. The last time she'd heard him sing had been at karaoke in Cindy's bar at Christmas. This was a completely different experience. She thought it should have been strange, to hear him singing a girl's part, but it sounded just right. His face was clear, even pleasant, but there was something in the  _sound_  of it that made her want to cry. She thought, if she couldn't hold onto something, that she might do that, so she reached for Sarah's hand and gripped it tight.

"I wish I knew what he was saying," Sarah said.

"Yeah. I don't know enough French."

"I take the blues… from the answering machine," said her father. "I take… the sadness at airports."

They both turned and stared at him, but he was watching the screen, frowning with concentration as he listened.

"I love at kilometers away, and happiness on my phone… such is my destiny… I go my way, that's how my hours pass, with the… the rhythm of my heartbeat." He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "Close enough, anyway. Your brother sure can sing, Sarah."

Frances wanted to hug her father for not even mentioning that the baseball game was still on, and for being able to translate Kurt's French lyrics, but especially for calling Kurt Sarah's  _brother._  Then she remembered Brian, and scrambled to her feet.

"I have to tell Brian we're not coming," she said, picking up the phone and retreating into the hallway.

"Hey," Sarah called. She followed Frances. "We don't have to not go to the dance just because Matt can't drive. I mean, I could call Tatenui. He could take us."

Frances hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Well, Finn's in Columbus, and Noah's truck is still in Akron - don't ask, really - and Carole's working until eight. But I'm pretty sure Tatenui would drive us." She took the phone from Frances' hand. "I want to see Brian's face when he sees you in that dress."

That made Frances feel more uncertain about going, not less, but she waited while Sarah called Mr. Hummel. She could hear her father had switched the channel back over to the baseball, but that was okay. They'd heard Kurt perform. Frances was pretty sure she'd never forget it.

"Tatenui," Sarah said into the phone. "I'm at Frances' house. We're kind of stuck. Our ride can't make it. Any chance you could take me and Frances and Brian to the dance?" She listened, then smiled, nodding at Frances. "You don't have to dress up. Okay. We'll be waiting." She handed the phone back to Frances. "He'll be here in ten minutes. You gonna call Brian?"

Frances felt kind of bad she hadn't offered to ask her mother to drive, or her father, for that matter, but she was more relieved that she didn't have to. She hugged Sarah, not being careful of her hair. "Thank you."

Brian didn't sound like he was mad. He seemed to be relieved to hear they were still coming, even if they would end up arriving forty-five minutes late. They gathered up their things and waited on the porch for Mr. Hummel to arrive.

"When he was singing, Kurt sounded..." Frances wasn't sure how to end that sentence. "Sad," she finally decided.

"More adjectivy than that," Sarah agreed. "Despondent. Bereft. I think he misses Adam." She sighed. "I told him that things wouldn't get fixed by getting everybody to move back in to Mr. Hummel's house. Finn's still dragging his feet, and honestly, I'm kind of glad."

That was surprising to hear. "I thought you especially liked Finn."

"I do. But if I have to pick one person to worry most about, Noah wins every time." She leaned her head against the side of Frances' bare shoulder. Her head was almost even with Frances' chin. "He's not doing so well either, even if he doesn't know it."

"Are you going to tell me why his truck is in Akron?"

"He broke a law and got caught. But luckily he's got grown-up friends who kept him out of juvie."

Frances wasn't sure if she should bring up the other thing, but the night was so quiet and Sarah's head against her shoulder was so warm. "What are you going to do about next year?"

Sarah gave a quick shrug. "Too many variables right now to be sure. I was talking to Timmy about his investment in the construction loan, and he decided he'd just put his money into a three-month CD instead of keeping it in his regular bank account until Tatenui and Carole make a decision..."

"I'm not talking about the house," she said. She could hear the annoyance in her own voice, and tried to stay calm. "I mean about school."

"I know."

"You've already decided not to do it, haven't you."

"I don't know."

"Why not?" she demanded.

Sarah reached for Frances' hand, but she didn't clasp it. She ran her fingertips over Frances', her touch feather-light. It made it hard for Frances to breathe, but she couldn't pull away.

"Do you remember when you cut your finger," Sarah said, "and Kurt and I took you home in the Navigator?"

"Of course I remember." Frances watched the pattern of Sarah's movement over her fingers. "What does that -"

"That was the first time I ever came over to your house."

That was wrong, Frances knew, because Sarah had been over lots of times when they were little, when her babysitter Blaine had watched both of them in the summer. But she just nodded.

"I didn't really have a home then," Sarah went on. "I still don't. Tatenui's being really nice and everything, but there's still a pretty good chance that I might not get to stay with him. Which means I might have to move somewhere else."

Frances wasn't going to walk into her first middle-school dance with a blotchy, tear-stained face. She wasn't. She nodded again.

"So it's just easier to not have plans. No roots. I don't have any stuff to pack up. I could go any time and nobody would miss me."

"That's not true," she blurted.

Sarah paused in the motion of her hands on Frances' fingers, then swore, hiking up her dress almost to her waist. Frances watched her in dismay.

"Sarah, we're on the  _porch."_

"These fucking tights..." Sarah unrolled them down to her ankles, not even bothering to take off her boots. Frances watched her do it with mounting frustration.

"You can't go into a dance like that!"

She shot her an amused grin.  _"That's_  the thing that makes you react that way? My tights? Really?"

"Sarah," Frances sighed.

"Don't worry, I'll take them off in the car." She nodded at the headlights of Mr. Hummel's truck approaching. "Brian's going to have to ride in the back."

"Sarah." She grabbed for Sarah's hand. "I'd miss you. If you left. And your brother - all of them, really - and Mr. Hummel, and Mrs. Hudson, and everybody. They would."

Sarah nodded, tugging Frances after her as she started down the steps. "Okay?"

"I'm just saying, you might want to check your logic. You think that people wouldn't care, but they -"

"It's just what I have to tell myself," Sarah explained. "I have to think I wouldn't screw up everybody's life if I suddenly wasn't around. Or else it's too hard to love like Kurt and Tatenui do."

Frances paused and let go of Sarah's hand. "Like… how?"

"Like it doesn't matter how scary it is. They just put everything they've got into it, and they don't look back." She looked so fierce, so determined. "Me and Noah, we've always felt like that about each other, but I didn't know other people did that until I met Kurt and Tatenui. It's… everything. It's the only thing."

Mr. Hummel smiled at them as Sarah opened the passenger door and climbed in. After a moment, Frances followed her.

"Hey, kiddo," he said. "The two of you look real pretty. Now, Puck made me promise to let you have a good time without me cramping your style, so I'm gonna mostly hide out with the other grownups in the hallway, but you can come get me if you need anything. You'll have to tell me how to get to Brian's house."

Frances watched Sarah unlace her boots and squirm out of her tights, then put the boots back on with no socks. Thinking about Sarah and loving and the dance was making her feel really confused, and watching her take her tights off wasn't helping.

"We watched Kurt singing with the Cheerios, on TV," Sarah told Mr. Hummel.

"Yeah, me too. Wasn't that something?" Mr. Hummel looked about as proud as she'd ever seen anyone look. "You know, when he sings like that, he sounds just like his mother used to."

Frances knew Kurt's mother wasn't around anymore, but the question of why wasn't one she felt like she could ask. She imagined it would be hard, loving somebody without looking back, and then losing them. She wondered if she'd ever discover what that felt like.

Sarah tugged on her arm. "Do you want to go over to Danielle's house and check on her later?"

"I think that would be a bad idea," Frances said slowly. "It sounded like it wouldn't help if I tried to get involved."

She gave her a scornful look. "She's your friend. Of course it would help."

Frances wondered if she could explain to Sarah how being Danielle's friend wasn't the same as being Sarah's friend, that they never talked about love or anything, and that she'd felt a little like an intruder even hearing what was happening on the phone at Danielle's house. It had sounded scary. "There's nothing I can do. She said so."

"Carole told me that's just code for  _I'm freaking out and I don't know how to say so."_

Mr. Hummel made a little noise that could have been a laugh, but his face wasn't smiling. "Some people prefer their privacy, Sarah."

"I guess?" She shrugged. "I'm just saying. She's not  _my_  friend."

Brian was waiting by the door when Mr. Hummel pulled into his driveway. He waved at somebody inside and came out smiling. When he saw Frances standing beside the truck, he stumbled a little, staring. "Uh. Hi."

"You'll have to sit in the back," Frances said, indicating the narrow seat behind the front bench. She glared at him until he looked away, blushing. "This isn't going to be weird, is it?"

"No, no," he mumbled, climbing into the truck.

But it was weird already, because now they'd lost Danielle, and four friends going to the dance together was a lot different than Frances going to the dance with Brian-being-stupid and  _Sarah._  But she couldn't exactly tell Brian she'd changed her mind, that she'd rather just be there with Sarah. She wasn't even sure she could tell Sarah that.

Sarah introduced Brian to Mr. Hummel as  _Mr. Hummel,_  which was easier to explain than  _Tatenui._  Brian took him at face value, shaking his hand awkwardly from the back seat.

"So what do you do at a dance, anyway?" Sarah asked.

"If it's like any of the dances I went to when I was in junior high," said Mr. Hummel, "you stand around a lot and feel awkward, and try to gather up enough courage to ask the girls to dance."

"My brother said everybody feels stupid dancing, but they do it anyway. And who says the  _boys_  have to ask the girls?" Sarah turned around in her seat and looked over the bench at Brian. "You wanna dance?"

"Uh," he said, looking startled, "I — sure?"

"See?" She grinned at Frances. "How about you? You wanna dance?"

Frances laughed, trying not to make it obvious how uncomfortable she was. Because the answer inside her stomach wasn't anything like Brian's  _sure._  It was something a lot closer to the conversation she'd been having with Sarah about love.

_It's everything,_  she thought, looking at Sarah in helpless dismay. _It's the only thing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: [Chapter 7 of There's An Awful Lot of Breathing Room](http://archiveofourown.org/works/524843/chapters/935534), which follows this one, is all about Frances and Blaine at the library.
> 
> Sarah's dress is a [1950s Vivien of Holloway in red polka dot](http://fiftieswedding.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/1950s-polka-dot-dress-Vivien-of-Holloway.jpg).
> 
> The Celine Dion songs Sarah mentioned that Kurt sang at Cheerios Nationals were: Destin, Priere Payenne, Visa Pour les Beaux Jours, and Dans un Autre Monde.
> 
> http://youtu.be/7qwFvgXDY4I   
> http://youtu.be/7t_nQostpqU   
> http://youtu.be/RZ8h6WJoa3w   
> http://youtu.be/rFxme7cCGY0


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